Spiraling
by Sarahkw
Summary: Chuck Bass is spiraling downward behind closed doors as the repercussions of his actions sink in. Blair Waldorf has thrown herself into everything she can to move past Chuck and his indiscretions, but he's never far from her mind. Post 3X18.
1. Chapter 1

**Okay now. This is my first foray into Gossip Girl fanfiction. This idea has been rattling around in my head for the last several days and since I go to school for writing, I've learned it's best to, well, write those ideas down. **

**This story takes place after 3X18 and is Chuck & Blair centric. It's rated 'T' for language and may contain spoilers for future episodes (basically, I don't know what's going to happen any more than anyone else does so if I happen to write something similar to what's going down on the show, it's coincidental more than anything.) **

**I've got 2 more chapters already written, so tell me if you'd like me to add more – the next chapter is from Blair's POV as I think it'll best tell the story if it's told from both perspectives. **

_21 days. _

_6 hours. _

_32 minutes. _

It was a destructive ritual, really, keeping down to the minute track of how long it had been since he had spoken to Blair Waldorf. It only served to remind him that it had, in fact, been 21 days, 6 hours, and 32 minutes since he had heard her tell him they'd reached the end, her voice still sounding like the sweetest song he had ever heard despite the message it was delivering.

Though destructive, it was oddly calming. Numbers were solid. They were tangible. They didn't change. 2 always came after one. 12 times 4 was always 48. 64 divided by 8 was always 8. Numbers weren't like love. Love changed. Love ebbed and flowed. If you had enough numbers in the bank, you could buy whatever you desired. Even if you loved with everything you had, it wasn't always enough.

To the outside world, Chuck Bass was faring just fine following his split from the Upper East Side's queen. Gossip Girl had referred to it as a 'quiet' split and Chuck supposed that was right. Nate Archibald was the only person who knew the truth behind their break up – well, Nate and Jack Bass. There had been no screaming matches or public brawls. Just a stinging slap in the privacy of her building's lobby and a whispered _"this is the end, Chuck"_ at Dorota's wedding. Quiet it had been.

What the outside world was unaware of, however, was that it was all an act. The steady stream of high priced whores, their comings and goings tracked with astounding precision and rapidity by Gossip Girl, were merely a front, a mask. They entered and exited The Empire as reported by the unidentified gossip mogul, but what happened when they were inside would surprise anyone who thought they knew Chuck Bass.

While those who read Gossip Girl's latest report of how many and sometimes, who, entered the building imagined acts of varying degrees of obscenity, the women were actually treated to their own suite where they were free to abuse hotel staff to do their bidding or enjoy spa treatments, all while being paid their hourly rate. Rarely did they ever set eyes on Chuck Bass and when they did, it was merely a glimpse as he floated through the hotel with the stealth of a phantom.

Chuck had his staff leak tips to Gossip Girl about the parties he threw or the alcohol he consumed, but while she (or he) happily posted his latest indiscretion, Chuck could be found holed up in his penthouse, usually with the lights off, sipping scotch and stealing glances at his watch to calculate how much more time had passed since he had been away from Blair.

The night of Dorota's wedding, he had been set on taking Vanya's too tall cousin back to his penthouse and having his way with her. They had made it to the limo. Her lips had tried to touch his and without knowing he had done it, he had thrown himself to the opposite side of the limo and demanded the driver pull over. He had exited the vehicle before it had stopped completely and directed the driver to take the Russian wherever she needed to go. Hands in his pockets and head hung low, he had sleuthed to The Empire, alternating between fretting over how close he had came to cheating on Blair and reminding himself that he would have to be her boyfriend for it to be considered cheating.

That was the night he had developed his plan to fake his reversion to the Chuck Bass he had been without Blair. He was too proud to allow anyone to know how much he was suffering, how much his chest hurt as he thought of his future without Blair in it. It was only when he'd lost her that he'd realized he had made all of his future plans with her in mind.

It seemed he had managed to accomplish what he had set out to do after his father's death: exist without a soul to care about him. Blair was unmistakably gone. Nate, knowing the truth, hadn't spoken to him since the wedding. Serena had likely learned from Nate that whatever had happened between their best friends was his fault and took her place at Blair's side. Though from what he had garnered from Gossip Girl, Serena's father had returned and family drama had ensued, just as her relationship with Nate went on the rocks. Lilly and Eric's attention was elsewhere as well, though, he reasoned, they wouldn't be thrilled with him either had they known what he'd done. The Humphrey duo and Vanessa weren't exactly on his radar.

The skeleton crew of staff he allowed to access his Penthouse to clean and bring food he rarely touched knew with certainty that the rumors floating around New York City of the return of Chuck Bass, womanizer extraordinaire, were false. It wasn't worth their jobs, however, to reveal that their boss no longer filled out his tailored suits or that the circles under his eyes were not hangover-related. Instead, they toed eggshells around the young man and traded theories as to why the fair Miss Waldorf had not been seen in weeks.

With the lights off and his signature scotch in hand, silk robe cinched tightly, Chuck sat in an armchair, starring out of the window at the city below. Blair loved this view, he found himself thinking. She had told him once that it felt as though the city were putting on a light show just for her. He hadn't replied, choosing to sit in this very chair and watch her eyes sparkle at the site and a small smile play across her face. Those were his favorite moments with her, when her guard was down and it was just the two of them. It was those times when he felt as though he were the only one who knew the real Blair Waldorf.

She hadn't slept with Jack. There weren't words to express his gratitude for that. He had been plagued by images of Jack touching her, kissing her, taking her. He had wondered where the deed had happened, prayed it had not been their – his – bed. The moments of relief following the revelation that she had not slept with him had been near euphoric and in his mind, everything was once more right in the world. Until she had said 'this is the end, Chuck,' and walked away, leaving the hand he had reached out to her hanging in midair.

The scotch was tasteless as it rolled down his throat. His thoughts were full and empty at the same time. His phone had buzzed earlier with a Gossip Girl blast that had left him sick to his stomach. It had been a long time since he had paid attention to the site, but it had become a means to an end – a way to keep up with Blair. Blair who was spending an awful lot of time with Dan Humphrey. Blair had been spied buying a substantial amount of baby gifts for Dorota. Blair who had, tonight, been spotted laughing over a table for two with a man who was not himself.

Until now, he had been cautiously hopeful that they would work things out. Her dresses still took up a substantial amount of the spacious walk-in closet after all. Her numerous beauty products still lined the bathroom sink, set in an order only she was privy to understanding. Her copy of Breakfast At Tiffany's was still in the DVD player, the case lying on the coffee table next to an issue of Vogue she had brought with her the last time she had been there. It hadn't occurred to him that all of those things were easily replaceable. She wouldn't just discard a portion of her wardrobe or her beloved movie, would she?

Yes, he decided, she would. She would because she had gone on a date and until it had actually happened, he didn't believe that was possible either.

It had been a long time since he had felt the urge to alter his mood. Even now, the urge wasn't entirely too strong. He had gone as far as raid his medicine cabinet for the sleeping pills he knew were there. They were prescribed to Blair, but she had maybe taken two from the bottle, nights before big tests when she would need help battling her anxiety to sleep.

They were just sleeping pills, he reasoned, shaking the two capsules in his hand as though they were dice. Sleeping pills would do just that – help him sleep. It was late, after all. And he needed sleep. Dreamless sleep. Sleep where Blair wasn't being taken away by men wearing suits, sometimes screaming for them to let her go, other times calling out for him to save her, him arriving too late. Always too late.

Before he could stop himself, he tossed the pills in his mouth and chased them with the rest of his scotch. He vaguely thought of the bottle's orange label, warning him not to mix the pills with alcohol, but wrote it off as irrelevant, especially if it helped him sleep.

It didn't take long for the pills to have an effect. Groggy, he used the chair's arms to push himself up. He held onto the chair back for a moment to steady himself before half stumbling to his bedroom. The last thought he had as he pulled the covers over him and reached for the pillow that had replaced Blair was a curiosity as to what Gossip Girl would say if she saw Chuck Bass now, depressed, drunk, drugged, and cuddling with a pillow that still smelled like Blair.


	2. Chapter 2

**Pump. The. Brakes. **

**WOW. When I posted this yesterday, I figured I'd get a review. If I was lucky. I didn't expect to wake up this morning to my BlackBerry full of emails about reviews, favorites, and alerts. I'm so appreciative that I can't even begin to explain it. I love to write and I'm glad you all have enjoyed this so far. I replied to most if not all of your reviews, but I can't always promise to do that – especially in the next couple weeks as finals are coming up. I also can't promise to update as frequently during finals, but I'll do my best to get a couple out a week. I mean, this is just so much more fun than studying for mass communication history or media law and ethics. **

**This update has the smallest of spoilers in it – just a name, really, nothing more. This one sets up where Blair is and the next chapter (which is already done) will commence moving the story along. In my opinion, Blair has lost a chunk of her backbone in season 3 and needs to find it again. So here is where Blair stands. 3 Sorry for the long A/N! **

_21 days. _

_9 hours. _

_8 minutes. _

Blair Waldorf was ashamed that she could recite with minute accuracy how long it had been since she had watched Chuck Bass leave Dorota and Vanya's reception with the too tall Russian. She didn't want to be _that_ girl. The girl who sat around sighing, waiting for the love of her life to return while gazing morosely at mementos from happy days gone by. Chuck certainly wasn't doing anything of the sort, judging by Gossip Girl's almost daily reports of a revolving door of upscale hookers and Chuck's apparent return to excessive partying and boozing.

She allowed herself precisely one day to grieve following Dorota's wedding. She had spent enough time shedding tears over Chuck, she had declared to Nate who acted as her sounding board when they were once more in the safety of her bedroom. The next day, she had pulled herself up by her metaphoric bootstraps and dived head first into any task that would help her forget.

A tour of Columbia had been first on her to do list. She had fallen in love with the campus, felt as though she belonged there. She wasted no time in applying as a transfer student and requesting her transcripts from NYU. She buried herself in schoolwork and had stellar grades to show for it, all the better reason for Columbia to accept her. She devoted afternoons to decorating Dorota and Vanya's small Queens apartment, paying special attention to the baby's nursery. Sometimes, she even found herself having coffee with Dan and Vanessa – and oddly, enjoying their company.

She was proud of herself. The urge to retreat to her bathroom, her safe place, was strong. Incredibly strong. Sometimes she even swore she heard her toilet calling her name. She had resisted, however, if only for Serena's benefit. Serena had enough to deal with right now without her best friend reverting to her old habits. Without Serena to pull her back from the ledge, she knew it would only end badly so she had willed her brain to think of something else and given every piece of sweet she could find in the house to an all too happy Dorota.

When Cameron had asked her to dinner, she had accepted before she could talk herself out of it. Before a voice that sounded oddly like Chuck Bass whispered in her ear to turn him down. She had dressed carefully for the evening, paying special attention to make sure she didn't put off the wrong vibe. It was just a dinner, she told herself, making sure her chest was adequately covered and her skirt a safe length. She wasn't going to go home with him, even allow him to kiss her goodnight.

Cameron had turned out to be charming company. She had laughed, listened to his stories with real interest. Under other circumstances, she would have swooned and prepared to trade her soul for a second date with him. Yet as she removed her dress in her own bedroom that night, she was acutely aware of the lack of sparks between them. She knew Cameron would be no more than a friend, simply because the storm that was Chuck Bass had blown into her life.

She allowed herself to think about Chuck once she pulled her eye mask on and settled into bed. A part of her ached for him, a part that was bigger than she wanted to admit. There was something about being in Chuck's arms that made her feel as though there was nothing or anyone that could hurt her. A month ago, she would have never believed it would be Chuck himself who took that protection away. Nothing would have made her believe that the man who clung to her in his sleep as though his life was inexplicable tied to her own would be the one who wounded her so deeply.

She believed Chuck when he'd said he was sorry. She could see it in his eyes. He was never one to mince words or say things he didn't mean. His 'I'm sorry' was genuine, even if it wasn't enough. He was woefully ignorant to believe he could woo her back with a few apologies and a necklace. He didn't understand that, however. He didn't understand a lot of things - what his betrayal had done to her, how dirty she had felt even as she had approached the doors to Chuck-turned-Jack's penthouse or after Jack had touched her knee, kissed her lips.

Twice now, Chuck had said no one had made her go to Jack. But that was where he was wrong. _He_ had made her go to Jack. Her desperation to save him, to bring him happiness, to protect him, had driven her to Jack. She had sacrificed herself, her beliefs, for his happiness. That was what Chuck didn't understand.

She wondered if Chuck understood love. He had certainly never received it as a child and had only been able to say the words 'I love you' for less than a year. Maybe she had been foolish to believe Chuck, after his terrible childhood and deep rooted fears, was capable of truly loving. It made her physically ill to even consider the prospect, but in light of recent events, what choice did she have?

In her mind, The Empire was a thing. Compared to the love she at least thought she had shared with Chuck, it was miniscule, a minor detail, a place they went to hide from the outside world. If roles had been reversed, The Empire hers and Jack her uncle, she would let him have the damn thing if it meant sacrificing Chuck in some manner. Because to her, having someone to love and who loved you in return was exponentially more important than a pile of steel and stone.

But she understood what The Empire meant to Chuck. It was physical evidence that he was doing something right. It was a sign that he could be better than Bart Bass, God rest his soul. It was his tangible proof that his father had been wrong about him. It was, in essence, Chuck. That knowledge alone was what had driven her to Jack. That and the fear of what would happen to Chuck if he lost The Empire when she had the chance to save it. She had been terrified of the route Chuck would take if he suddenly lost everything he stood for.

She had thought a lot about those days following Bart's death, when Chuck had gone on wild, drunken, and drugged rampage across the world, spiraling further and further out of control, living metaphorically and literally on the edge as she sat on the edge of her bed, fingering the dress meant for her to wear for Jack. It had taken everything she could muster to pull Chuck out of the darkness he was living in then. She knew in the pit of her stomach that this time, if he made it back there, it would be far worse. There would be no saving him. She couldn't bear to watch him self-destruct again.

Chuck understood none of this though. He didn't understand that he had thrown every 'I love you' he had ever muttered in her face with his twisted game. He had only thought of her as a pawn as he had designed and schemed. He hadn't thought of how her heart had hammered as she'd pulled on that dress or how her hands had shook as she'd reached for the door handle to the penthouse. He hadn't considered how she would feel about herself or how the hot water would scald her skin as she scrubbed violently with a loofah to rid herself of any essence Jack may have left on her during their brief encounter. He didn't account for her washing her mouth out with Listerine so many times it became raw.

To tell her everything had been for nothing made her want to shake him, ask him if it were his idea of a joke. To him, it had been nothing. To her, it had been everything.

Her phone buzzed. She blindly reached for it, realizing she hadn't checked her messages during her time with Cameron. Serena had sent her several, checking in, asking how things were going. Nate had sent her a note of encouragement earlier in the evening, followed by an 'are you okay?' message recently. Dan had invited her to join him and Vanessa for coffee before their classes on Monday. Even Dorota had checked in to let her know she was going to bed, still no baby. The concern of those around her made her smile. She had people who cared about her, even if none of them were Chuck.

It was Gossip Girl's alerts, however, that made the anxiety in her chest rise. She ignored the posts about Jenny Humphrey's latest troubles and Eric Van Der Woodson's latest beau. She read the one with her name, however:

_Spotted: The Upper East Side's most single gal wining and dining with an old money stud. Looks like a fond farewell to the Basstard that broke her heart to me. _

She deleted the alert the moment she finished reading it. She wished she didn't feel guilty, as though she had cheated on Chuck. She wished she didn't wonder how Chuck had taken the news that she was, at least in appearances, moving on. She wondered if it had bothered him at all. Her hand trembled in the slightest as she opened the alert containing Chuck's name.

_Spotted: Tonight's flavors – one vanilla, two chocolate, and another a tropical blend – entering The Empire. I hear the Basstard owner is having quite the private party in his penthouse. Wonder if it's his way of telling a certain brunette Chuck you?_

Again, she deleted the message quickly. Was he saying 'Chuck you' to her? Was tonight's party in response to her pseudo date? Did Chuck even know she had gone out with someone? Would he care?

She closed her eyes tightly and shook her head. It didn't matter, she told herself. They were done. What and who Chuck did was his business now, not hers. She tried instead to refocus her thoughts on an upcoming essay in her Women's Studies class which, naturally, redirected her thoughts to what Chuck was currently up to.

Certain he had a bed full of women to keep him company, she reached for a pillow to fill the void in her bed. She wished it could fill the void in her heart as well.


	3. Chapter 3

**Once again, THANK YOU for your reviews and the amazing response! I replied to most of you earlier this evening. If I didn't, I'll try to get to you soon. I love reading what y'all think so keep them coming. They're like my own version of Johnny Walker Blue. **

**I was going to hold onto this for another day, but I decided what the heck? Chuck's got to work a little harder to keep up his front after this one. I've got a hectic few days coming up with school and sorority functions so I can't guarantee when the next update will be, but I can promise it will be up by Saturday at the latest. **

**Disclaimer: Things I own: A ridiculous amount of killer shoes for a dorm room closet. Things I don't own: Gossip Girl**

Somewhere in the far reaches of his mind, a voice that sounded oddly like Blair's told him not to open the bottle of scotch in his hand. When he did, that same voice dared him to pour it. He didn't listen. The Blair-like voice got louder when he turned the glass up, reminded him that it was barely eight in the morning. He took a long swallow, ignoring it's warning.

The sleeping pills had worked like the magic they were. For the first time in three weeks, he had slept blissfully unaware of how empty his bed was and if he'd had nightmares, he didn't remember them. He still felt groggy, but he started off every morning sluggish – hungover – lately so if that was the price he had to pay for a peaceful night's sleep, so be it.

Standing at the kitchen's island, scotch in hand, his eyes fell on the empty scotch bottle beside the chair he'd spent much of the previous night in. He made a mental note to have his staff restock though he was sure they understood it as a given now as he had made the same request every day for, as of today, 22 days straight.

As it did every morning, his mind turned to how he was going to get Blair back. This morning, he entertained what had been a sarcastic comment to Nate and Serena, but at present time, seemed like a not half bad idea. He could buy Saks. He could buy the entire chain of Saks. Blair loved to shop. Surely she would love being able to walk in, tell someone what she wanted, and walk out with her purchases packaged and bagged.

It was then that Chuck remembered why he had written this off as a bad idea in the first place. Blair already could walk into Saks, tell someone what she wanted, and walk out with it packaged and bagged. Buying her a store wouldn't woo her in the least. It certainly wouldn't make her forget what he had done. He sighed and rubbed the spot between his eyes and just above his nose that always pained him when he started down this route.

He couldn't wrap his head around everything. Every time he tried, he was affronted with the fact that he had the emotional range of a goldfish. Just as he started to scratch the surface of the hows and whys of his actions, his mind shut down and refused to think any further. It had dawned on him recently that he didn't feel anything. Unless emptiness was a feeling. If it were, he had the market cornered on that one.

The sound of elevator chimes whipped his thoughts back to the present. Someone was coming. It was too early for housekeeping. Everyone else – his business associates included – was banned from his penthouse. Everyone except for one. Blair.

His heart sped up. It had to be Blair. His staff wouldn't let anyone else up. They wouldn't dare disobey a direct order from Chuck Bass. He suddenly felt self-conscious, wished desperately that he was wearing one of his sharp, tailored suits, not a pair of silk pajamas. Far more pressing than what he was wearing, however, was what he was going to say to her when she appeared before him.

Footsteps sounded. But they weren't the familiar click of Blair's impossibly high heels. They were heavy, measured. Tentative. Unless Blair had decided to don work boots, the footsteps didn't belong to her. He held out the faintest of hopes however until Nate Archibald came into view.

Chuck froze for a moment before disguising his surprise as casual noninterest. He didn't look at Nate. He couldn't. Eye contact would mean a conversation and as far as he knew, Nate was the only person outside the hotel triangle who knew what happened. The only person he was more reluctant to confront than Nate was Blair.

He could feel Nate's eyes on him, scrutinizing him. The wave of self-consciousness he had felt when he'd believed it was Blair exiting the elevator came crashing back. He was acutely aware of how his pajamas, once comfortably snug, now hung from his hips. He knew how pale his complexion was. He hadn't been outside The Empire's four walls since he'd left the wedding and his appearance now could pass as one of the vampires from those movies he couldn't escape. And if he met Nate's eyes, someone besides himself would know how empty and alone he felt. He decided to speak, if only to break Nate's examination.

"Nathaniel." He kept his eyes trained on the window across the room. His voice sounded thick with something he couldn't place. He gripped his glass of scotch as a child would cling to their favorite blanket.

"Scotch? At 8:30 in the morning?" Nate replied. Chuck didn't miss the note of disapproval in his voice.

"Some people drink coffee to start their day. I drink scotch." As if to prove a point, he took a long swig from his glass. "It looks as though I'll be adding to the country's unemployment rate this morning," he continued, placing his near empty glass on the counter. "Security knows I have barred unwanted visitors."

"I slipped in unnoticed," Nate replied with a hint of a bite. "From the looks of it, one of your guests had too much fun last night. The guy was just stumbling in, still drunk and shouting obscenities. They had their hands full. Otherwise, I'm sure they would have done your bidding. That's what they get paid to do, after all."

Chuck nodded once, but didn't buy Nate's story. Someone had fallen down on the job. At least one security officer would be looking for a new job tomorrow, likely the first one he encountered and possibly the second too if firing the first didn't make him feel better.

"What brings you by?" he asked Nate. "I'm guessing this isn't a conjugal visit." He continued to avoid looking directly at Nate. There were too many secrets at stake not to. He waited for Nate to answer him as it seemed he had forgotten there was a reason for his intrusion.

"Oh, um," Nate stuttered, giving Chuck a grim satisfaction that Nate had indeed been sidetracked by their encounter. "I needed to grab a few things from the spare bedroom. I've been staying at Serena's lately – her family is going through some stuff. We're going through some stuff. Anyway, I have a few shirts here that I wanted…"

Chuck cut him off with a wave of his hand.

"You know where the bedroom is."

Nate remained rooted to his spot. Chuck felt Nate's critical eye on him again. He gripped the counter's edge with white knuckles. He hoped years of being Chuck Bass's best friend told Nate to tread lightly. Surprises had never been his strong suite and an encounter with Nate was not something had been prepared for in his groggy state. His mind worked overtime, trying to stay a step ahead of the golden-haired do gooder.

"Chuck."

Chuck didn't acknowledge him. He knew Nate didn't expect him to.

"Chuck."

He trained his eyes on the empty scotch bottle by the chair, his grip on the counter still tight. It was holding him up just as much as it was helping him control the emotions boiling in the pit of his stomach. Finally, Nate's eyes left him, but Nate himself didn't move. He knew Nate was taking in the scene, looking for any sign of what he had been up to, clues as to whether or not Gossip Girl's posts were true. He prayed Nate wasn't smart enough to put the pieces together.

"Chuck, what's going on?" Nate asked. This time, his voice was serious. The last time Chuck could remember Nate being this solemn was when he and Blair had been trying to get through to him after his father's death. He pulled a sharp comment from his internal file in an effort to ward of Nate's questions.

"You stopped by to get your shirts," he said evenly. "Honestly, Nathaniel, if pot is doing this to your short term memory, you should consider quitting. Or at least changing suppliers. I know a guy. Drop my name. He'll give you a good buy on your first deal."

Nate fixed Chuck with another steady gaze.

"You know what I mean, Chuck."

Chuck shook his head stiffly.

"I have no idea what you mean."

Nate sighed.

"According to Gossip Girl, you had quite the party last night."

"Indeed I did." He tried to sound as though he were reminiscing about some secret time he had experienced the night before.

"Then where's the evidence?" Nate wanted to know.

"Training for CSI, are we Nathaniel?"

Nate didn't reply. Chuck heard his footsteps again. He watched Nate, his eyes burning into him as he went for the master suite's door. Nate glanced at him as if daring him to stop him. For some reason, Chuck couldn't muster up the words to try. He knew what Nate was looking for. An unknown woman, naked in his bed. Empty liquor bottles littered about. Half empty tumblers perched precariously. Instead, Chuck knew Nate would find barely disheveled sheets, turned down on only one side, and a pillow peeking out from under the covers where Blair would have slept. Nate returned with a frown on his face.

"If you're looking for last night's soiree, you're too late," Chuck lied, only briefly meeting Nate's eyes as he gripped the counter still tighter. "But there will be another one tonight if you would like to join."

"You sure you had a party here last night?" Nate asked. He came to stand across the island from Chuck, his arms crossed. Chuck had a fleeting desire to make a crack about Nate's futile attempt to be intimidating.

"Oh I'm very sure," Chuck replied in a calculated voice. "The tropical blend was, shall we say, exotic." He had made sure to let Nate know he had read the post on Gossip Girl. He hoped it would get back to Blair that he was still reading Gossip Girl and consequently very aware of what she had been up to.

"Come on Chuck. Be honest with me," Nate said flatly.

Chuck shrugged and held his arms out. This time, he made eye contact with Nate.

"I'm sorry you missed it," he said. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have a board meeting to prepare for." Leaving his glass where it was, the bottle of Johnnie Walker Blue uncapped beside it, he headed towards his bedroom, trying to walk with his former heir of arrogance.

"If you had such a wild party, why is the penthouse so clean?" Nate called out. Chuck stopped, but didn't turn around.

"Housekeeping, Nathaniel," he lied. "Now excuse me."

Chuck exited the room, shutting his bedroom door behind him. He could hear Nate moving around. The sound of glass clinging told Chuck he surveying the bar, trying to judge how much alcohol he'd consumed in the last several days. He listened as Nate crossed the penthouse. His footsteps disappeared for a few minutes, likely the time he was in the spare bedroom. He heard them again. They stopped again. Resumed. The elevator chimed and Chuck listened to the doors close. When he was certain Nate had left, he exited his bedroom. He preferred to spend as little time in there as possible.

He had intended to cap his friend Johnnie for the evening's use, but the piece of paper sitting under it caught his eye. He picked it up.

_If you need help getting rid of Johnnie Walker… _

Chuck stared at the note penned in Nate's chicken scratch writing before he crumbled it and tossed it in the direction of the waste bin. He didn't need or want Nate's pity.

He poured himself another tumbler of scotch and took it into the bathroom so it would be waiting after his shower. He heard housekeeping enter the penthouse as his water turned on. By his calculations, they should have missed Nate by a few minutes, allowing him to cling to his take of exotic specials.

As he stepped under the stream of scalding water, he considered what story he would have leaked to Gossip Girl today.

***No worries – Chuck & Blair interaction to come in the next chapter. **


	4. Chapter 4

**I lied. This update was supposed to include some Blair and Chuck interaction. But… It got long and ended in a place where I thought it needed to be it's own chapter. I was going to sit and add the second part and basically put two updates in one, but then, after writing nearly all of the second part, I decided I didn't like the two updates together. They needed to stand on their own. BUT. I know everyone is eager for Chuck and Blair. So, as the update is nearly done, I'm going to post it later this evening – two updates in one day, the second with Chuck and Blair interacting. **

**Thank you to everyone who has reviewed. I've tried to reply to most everyone. If I haven't replied to you – I'm truly sorry. I've got 3 exams, 2 papers, 3 commercials, and a project, all due between now and Thursday, so I shouldn't even be writing this right now. But… Well… This is more fun. I'll try my hardest to reply when I can. I am so appreciative of your reviews – you have no idea! **

**I own: A pink BlackBerry that is as essential to my being as air. I don't own: Gossip Girl. **

Blair Waldorf was in love. Head over heels, walking on the clouds, sunshine and daisies, completely and totally in love with all 7 pounds, 3 ounces and 21 inches of the dark-haired baby girl she held in her arms.

She had been ecstatic over the prospect of Dorota having a child of her own, yet a part of her, a selfish, childish part, had wondered how Dorota's feelings towards her would change once she had her own child to love. Dorota had been the one stability in her life and as ashamed as Blair was to admit it, a better mother to her than Eleanor had ever been. She didn't want to lose Dorota too, so soon after she had lost Chuck.

But her phone had rang with the news from Vanya that Dorota was in labor and she had spun on her Jimmy Choo-covered heel and hailed a cab, forgetting she had been on her way to an economics lecture, forgetting she had taken the class to better understand Chuck's business ambitions, and forgetting all worries about Dorota leaving her.

Those worries had flooded back as she had stood off to the side of the delivery room, watching Vanya and Dorota coo over their new daughter. Dorota had asked – demanded – that Blair be with her once she had gone into labor and Blair, despite how much it turned her stomach, hadn't had the heart to refuse. She was fairly certain her hand would never be the same after too long of Dorota squeezing it for dear life.

Dorota seemed to have read her mind.

"Miss Blair, come see," she had said, motioning for the girl she considered her first daughter, if not her first born, to join her. It was then, in that simple statement, that Blair was certain she would always have Dorota's love. And maybe Vanya's and this little girl's too, if she were lucky.

While the doctors had moved Dorota into a room and checked over the baby, Blair had slipped out to buy a gift. A necessity, really, she thought, as she glanced at the bright pink headband situated over the baby's hospital-issued cap. She had gone a tad overboard, she conceded, buying nearly every baby-sized headband the store had to offer, but she hadn't been able to control herself.

"Miss Blair?" Dorota called, drawing Blair from her thoughts. "Vanya and me… We have question to ask you. More request, really."

"Anything, Dorota," Blair replied, her gaze returning to the baby.

"Miss Blair…," Dorota started. "We talk it over. Vanya and me. We want you to be baby's godmother."

Blair gasped, her head shooting up to look at Dorota.

"What?" she exclaimed. Certainly she hadn't heard right.

"We want you to be baby's godmother," Vanya repeated, a large smile spreading across his face. "We can think of no one else for job more better than you."

"But…," Blair was lost for words. She had vaguely wondered, possibly even let a thread of hope weave it's way into her mind, that she would be asked to be the child's godmother, but with everything that had happened with Chuck she hadn't thought of it in weeks. "Why?" she finally managed to ask. She certainly didn't consider herself a role model these days.

"Because you my Blair," Dorota explained as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. "You teach baby to be good, strong woman and to love with whole heart. You be good godmother to my girl. And good big sister too."

Blair felt her eyes well with tears. Tears that were not only because of the honor being bestowed upon her, but because Dorota thought of her as a good, strong woman and a sister to her own, biological child. If Dorota only knew, she thought. She focused on the small child in her arms. Her goddaughter.

"I would be honored," she said, her voice cracking. She felt more humble than she had ever felt in her life. Humble and Blair Waldorf generally did not belong in the same sentence. She looked up at Vanya and Dorota who were both glowing in light of their new addition. "Unbelievably honored."

"Good," Dorota said. "And see? You already teach first lesson. Headband most important accessory."

Blair laughed despite the overwhelming storm of emotions growing inside her.

"And the bow goes on the right," she added with a smile, touching her fingertips to the big pink bow on the baby's head.

The infant squirmed in Blair's arm as though readjusting herself before falling back into a peaceful sleep. Blair pondered the innocence that she held in her arms. She was brand new, the product of two people who, in just a few short hours, already loved her more fiercely than any force of nature could ever match. No one had tainted her yet. Her heart hadn't been broken by the boy she should have never fallen for. She hadn't yet had to deal with society's expectations and the diamond-encrusted evils of the social order surrounding them. Blair made a silent vow to the infant that she wouldn't allow her to feel the excruciating heartbreak her godmother felt now. She also vowed to tell the child frequently how lucky she was to have two parents who loved her so.

"You ask." Dorota's voice, barely louder than a whisper, made it's way to Blair's ear in the otherwise quiet hospital room. She rejoined the real world, listening in to the hushed argument between Vanya and Dorota.

"No, you ask. You know Miss Blair longer," Vanya whispered back. "You practically raise her."

"Ask me what?" Blair wanted to know. They had already asked her to be a godmother. What more could they need to ask of her today? Surely they weren't hunting for a babysitter already. She hadn't planned on taking on that role until the child was at least potty trained.

"It you idea," Dorota continued to Vanya.

"You agree."

"I had baby today. I did hard work. You do hard work now."

Vanya knew defeat when he saw it and sighed in resignation. He apprehensively turned to face Blair. He had a soft spot for the girl, especially in the days since their wedding when he had observed how broken hearted she was. He prayed nightly that she would find love like that of he and Dorota. Despite her overpowering sense of entitlement and agenda setting ways, he knew from Dorota that Blair yearned to be loved and to also love in return. He knew too that her insecurities, while well hidden, were always just below the surface. The girl had thought she'd found love and security with Chuck Bass and it was Chuck Bass that had him afraid to face the diminutive brunette.

"Miss Blair, we…" Dorota loudly cleared her throat. "I," Vanya corrected, "want ask you one more question."

"Okay…," Blair nodded, anxious of what was coming. Vanya's eyes fell on his daughter.

"Maybe I should give baby to Dorota first…"

"No," Dorota cut in, "leave baby with Miss Blair. You safe if she have baby. She may kill you if she don't."

Vanya considered his options and then nodded in agreement with Dorota. Blair wouldn't hurt him if she had her arms full with the baby. It was painfully evident how much she already loved the child. It did feel wrong to use his child as a shield when she was just hours old, however. Yet so it was, he supposed, when Blair Waldorf was the godmother.

"What's going on?" Blair demanded, looking from Dorota to Vanya. She held the baby just a bit closer, a temporary safety blanket of sorts to calm her rising anxiety.

"We want to ask – Mr. Chuck – to be godfather," Vanya spit out nervously.

Blair scoffed.

"Chuck?" she asked, disbelieving. "Why on earth would anyone – especially anyone who knows him – ask Chuck Bass to be the godfather of their child?"

"Chuck pay for wedding," Vanya explained. "Chuck gave Dorota and me wedding of dreams and save from family fight."

"If baby was boy we never ask," Dorota added, scrunching her nose up. "He teach boy how to drink and fornicate."

"But baby a girl," Vanya explained. "Mr. Bass protect girl. He take care of girl. We want baby to have godfather like that."

Blair wanted to argue. She wanted to explain to Dorota and Vanya that Chuck did not protect or take care of the girl. She wanted to tell them that he sold the girl for a piece of property and failed to see why that was wrong. But that would mean confessing how low she herself had sunk to the one person who's opinion mattered to her and she just couldn't bring herself to do that. Begrudgingly, dutifully ignoring the hopeful look on both Vanya and Dorota's faces, she nodded her head to give consent, still not convinced it was the best idea.

"Fine," she agreed. "Ask him. If nothing else, he'll serve as my example when I explain to her what kind of boy she should absolutely stay away from." She was also going to advise avoiding burlesque clubs, champagne, and rooftops. And to never take a limo alone with a boy, especially if emotionally exhausted and possibly a bit drunk.

"Miss Blair," Dorota started, "I know you and Mr. Chuck not happy. But Mr. Chuck good guy under thick skin of his."

Blair shook her head.

"No, Dorota, he's not. He fooled me for a while, but he is exactly who I used to think he was."

"Maybe if you talk to Mr. Chuck…"

"Me and 'Mr. Chuck' are done," Blair snapped. "Mr. Chuck is emotionally stunted and incapable of caring for anyone beside himself and Johnnie Walker. You may be entrusting him as the godfather of your child, but if you expect him to do more than buy her expensive presents and give her her first taste of alcohol when she turns thirteen, you're going to be disappointed."

Silence rang out through the room. Blair instantly felt bad for her tirade.

"I'm sorry," she said, meaning it. "Chuck is a sore spot for me."

"Miss Blair, if I just know what he did, maybe I can help find way to fix it," Dorota offered. She had seen Chuck at her wedding, watched his face fall as Blair had declared that they were not happy before running off in tears. She was always on Blair's side, even if Blair was wrong, but she had a soft spot for Chuck. Regardless of what had happened between them, she believed Chuck truly loved Blair. And if Chuck Bass loved someone, she was certain that love was going to last a lifetime.

"What Chuck did is unforgiveable," Blair said. She carefully stood with the baby and walked to Vanya. "I'm moving on. Chuck needs to do the same." She passed the baby off to Vanya who cooed to her. She then leaned over to give Dorota a hug. "I'll be back tomorrow, after class," she told them. She squeezed Vanya's shoulder, not quite comfortable enough with him to hug yet, and touched her fingertips to the baby's cheek. "Bye, beautiful girl," she whispered.

On the ride back to her dorm, she tried not to wonder what it would have been life years down the road if she were the one in the hospital bed and it were Chuck holding their newborn daughter.

***Next chapter, Blair and Chuck, promise. Also, the baby's name will be revealed.**


	5. Chapter 5

**It just makes my day every single time I see a new review notification pop up in my inbox. I read them almost instantly, mainly because I'm addicted to the blinking red light on my BlackBerry. I love love love them and appreciate each of you taking the time to writing one. I'll try to reply to each of you soon, but school is going to own me for the next four days. But I will, promise! **

**Now you will see why this had to be separate from today's earlier update. For one, it's BY FAR the longest update yet. Apparently Chuck and Blair are just too much fun together to stop writing. But it's the next day in this update and, well, it's Chuck and Blair. **

**Things I own: A fabulous LBD that I will be wearing tomorrow evening. I think. Things I don't own: Gossip Girl. Or the Grey's Anatomy line I referenced. **

He hadn't meant for it to take him all day to stop by the hospital. Judging by the hour, he would wager to bet Dorota and Vanya thought he wasn't coming. It was better this way though, he reasoned, as he entered the building. There was only an hour left of visiting hours, therefore he wouldn't have to come up with an exit strategy. Or, if Blair happened to be there, he wouldn't have to force himself to leave her alone – the hospital would do that for him when they sent nurses to evict visitors.

His housekeeper had delivered the message from Vanya when she had pushed her cart into his suite that morning. She had looked nervous when she had told him Vanya had requested he stop by the hospital to see his newborn daughter, undoubtedly sure that Chuck was going to fire her. Instead, Chuck had nodded his head and told her to skip his penthouse for the day.

For the better part of an hour, Chuck had debated whether or not to go. The request surprised him. He had assumed Vanya and Dorota would be on Blair's side, especially after her outburst at their wedding. He hadn't left the building in 24 days. He hadn't planned to leave it for at least another 24. There was no need. And yet there was the chance, the slightest chance, that he would cross paths with Blair if he went to the hospital. Surely she was spending time there. If he could possibly be in the same room with her, even if just for a moment, it would be worth it.

The decision being made, he quickly drew two conclusions. One, he needed a gift for the baby. He put in a call for one of his assistants to comb the streets of New York for the perfect gift for a newborn girl. Two, he needed to do something about his appearance. If he were going out in public, he needed to look presentable. Another call was made and within another hour, he was combing racks of suits in the men's department of Bergdorf's, closed to the public for his use after slipping in through a back entrance. There hadn't been time to have the suit tailored, but it helped hide the weight he'd lost, thereby helping him keep his mask in place.

Back at his penthouse, he decided something needed to be done about the bags under his eyes. Remembering the sleeping pills, he took just one, assuming if two provided him with six hours of uninterrupted sleep, one would provide him with at least three, at least enough of a nap to make him seem less exhausted than he really was. Three hours had turned into five. It was late afternoon by the time he woke up and started preparing to visit the hospital. The present he had requested was sitting on his kitchen island, wrapped elaborately in silver and pink, delivered sometime during his nap.

His hair was longer than he normally wore it, he realized, as he shaved following a long, very hot shower. There was no time for a haircut now, though, so he parted it as he normally would and hoped it looked okay. He would find a barber to come to his penthouse tomorrow. He carefully applied some cologne – Blair's favorite – and put in a call to Arthur to have the limo waiting before he pulled on his suit.

On the ride to the hospital, he had finally allowed himself to wonder what he would say if Blair was there. Apologies ran through his mind, each one weaker than the last. He considered having Arthur stop by the first jewelry store they came to so he could buy a peace offering, but knew it wouldn't help. He had already tried that. He decided he had no choice but to play it by ear. By the time he stepped into the elevator and pushed the maternity floor button, he had half convinced himself Blair would be gone by now, off studying or, if God was cruel, on another date with her rebound guy.

He knocked on Dorota's door before turning the handle and pushing it open. He found he couldn't move past the doorway. Because the first thing he saw, directly in his line of vision as though she had been put there on purpose, was Blair Waldorf, a pink bundle of blankets in her arms, a bright red headband in her glossy hair.

Blair instinctively turned towards the door when it opened. Her breath caught in her throat. Chuck Bass was framed in the doorway, the harsh fluorescent lights from the hall creating a glow around him. He was undeniably handsome, but Blair knew him too well. Her well-trained eye instantly picked up his weight loss, the new suit he was wearing a vain and poor effort to hide it. He looked tired, entirely too pale. She felt concerned for a moment before reminding herself he was no longer hers to worry about. She tore her eyes away from him, focused on the baby she didn't really see.

Chuck was certain his heart stopped. The dim lighting of Dorota's room did nothing to mask the beauty that was Blair Waldorf. He felt her eyes on him, knew she was registering his disheveled appearance, so well hidden from the casual passerby but too obvious for the one person he allowed to know him inside out. He felt ashamed, knowing Blair would chalk it up to drinking, drugs, and sex. He wished there was a way to let her know it was because of her, because of the misery he felt without her, the nightmares he had of her being torn from him, that he looked like the wreck he was.

For her part, she was as striking and put together as ever, if not a bit weary looking. He wondered what her secret was, how she managed to look as though her world hadn't fallen apart. He did not allow himself to ponder the idea that she was moving on and not desperately missing him as he was her. He ached to kiss her perfect lips, run his fingers through her curls while he held her close. Instead, he forced himself to put one foot in front of the other and enter the room. He found Vanya, his safest target, and prepared to give an Oscar-worthy performance.

"Vanya," he greeted, standing tall and offering his hand. "I received your good news this morning, but a business meeting held me captive all day. I apologize for my tardiness in congratulating you."

"Oh is fine, Mr. Chuck. You busy man," Vanya replied happily, shaking Chuck's hand. "You here now."

Chuck nodded at the man and then turned to Dorota who was watching him with a curious look from her hospital bed. He prayed motherhood had mellowed her pit bull tendencies when it came to Blair as he approached her.

"Dorota, you look as striking as ever," he said as he took her hand and kissed it. Dorota broke into a large smile. Blair rolled her eyes. Chuck always had been too charming for his own good. "Congratulations to you as well. I come bearing gifts." He presented Dorota with his silver and pink package. Blair was certain he had no idea what was in it.

"Oh thank you Mr. Chuck!" Dorota exclaimed. She eagerly tore into the wrapping, revealing the Tiffany's box beneath it. She opened the lid and pushed aside the tissue paper to reveal a round Limoges jewelry box, painted purple with gold piping, a set of gold ballet slippers painted on the lid. "It perfect Mr. Chuck! I use it for baby bracelet Miss Blair buy."

Chuck nodded, pleased with the gift and even more pleased that Dorota liked it. Swallowing and unable to avoid the inevitable any longer, he turned towards Blair and the baby.

"And this must be the new addition," he said, taking measured steps towards Blair. He felt the air between them charge, the pull between their hearts yanking with more force than ever. He fought hard to hide his emotions. Blair did the same, half believing the magnetism between them would pull her out of her chair and into Chuck's arms against her will.

"Blair," Chuck managed as a way of greeting. It was the first time he had said her name out loud in 24 days. The syllable sounded raw as it left his mouth.

"Chuck," she replied. She swallowed forcefully, certain the only time a name had been so hard to speak was when she had said 'Jack' while standing before him in Chuck's penthouse the night this disaster had took place.

Chuck leaned down to better see the baby. He smiled in spite of how much his chest hurt in Blair's presence.

"A headband," he commented, glancing up at Blair.

"The stocking hats the hospital issues are atrocious," Blair explained, desperate to make this as painless as possible.

Chuck held on to the eight words Blair spoke to him. There were eight words more that he could remember at night as he tried to fall asleep without her curled up at his side. But they were still eight words. Not eight letters.

"She's beautiful," he commented, still looking at Blair. Neither of them were sure of who he was talking about – Blair or the baby.

"Her name is Amelia Reine," Blair replied softly, keeping her gaze off of Chuck.

"Amelia Reine," Chuck repeated. "Reine is French for queen."

"Miss Blair suggest it," Dorota piped up. "It fitting, really."

"No Russian or Polish name?" Chuck wanted to know. He knew the parents were both proud of their heritage.

"Amelia Latin for to strive or excel," Vanya explained. "When we come to country, we come to excel. Name also fitting for baby."

Chuck nodded in agreement. It was a fitting name for the child of two immigrants who had come to the United States with hopes and dreams of a better life, hopes and dreams that had been realized and then some with their marriage and birth of their child. Their drive and determination was something Chuck could understand.

"Do you want to hold her?" Blair asked. She hoped he didn't as she was quite content to cuddle with the baby until the nurse kicked her out or Amelia began to cry, but her manners and the knowledge that Chuck was going to be asked to be the godfather at some point made her ask him all the same.

"Oh, no," Chuck replied quickly. He didn't hold babies. He didn't even like babies, really. Never had and now that he had lost Blair, likely never would.

"Hold her, Mr. Chuck," Dorota urged. "She not bite."

Chuck shook his head.

"No. I couldn't…"

Blair stood with the baby in her arms, deciding Chuck needed to hold his goddaughter.

"Sit down," she told him, nodding towards the chair she had abandoned.

"I really…"

"Chuck, sit down," Blair repeated sternly. Chuck couldn't deny her. He did as she asked. She leaned towards him, her curls falling forward. The scent of her shampoo mixed with her perfume and a scent that was strictly Blair filled his nostrils. He breathed it in, memorizing it. She carefully laid the baby in his arms. "Support her head," she instructed, waiting for Chuck to move his arm in place behind the baby's head before she released the baby entirely.

Chuck froze, somewhere between terrified and amazed. Everything about the girl in his arms was tiny. Breakable. He had never been this close to a baby before. No one in his very limited circle of friends had so much as a younger sibling except for Serena, but Eric was already a toddler when their paths had crossed. There was a strange mixture of emotions he couldn't place stirring in the depths of his stomach. Amelia's eyes popped up and stared up at him. He kind of understood now, what the fuss about babies was all about.

Blair stood nearby, watching the scene before her. Chuck Bass holding a baby was unnatural. He sat stiff, staring at the baby who, now that her eyes were open, stared back. She found herself desperately wondering what he was thinking, not just about the baby but about – everything. She wondered if he had thought back to the time when there had been a chance that they were nearly parents. She had thought about it often in the last couple of days, wondering how different things would be now if the test had read positive.

"Mr. Chuck?" Vanya asked.

"Vanya," Chuck answered, barely taking his eyes off the baby. Barely moving for fear of doing something wrong while the child was at his mercy.

"We have question to ask of you," Vanya continued. Blair crossed her arms, waiting. Chuck waited as well.

"Dorota and me, we want you to be Amelia's godfather," Vanya asked.

Blair watched Chuck's face change to one of confusion as he registered the question.

"Come again?" he asked.

"We want you to be Amelia's godfather," Dorota repeated. She glanced at Blair as though expecting Blair to interrupt, to make a last ditch effort to stop Chuck from accepting.

"Me?" Chuck wanted to know. "Why?"

Where Blair's why when she was asked was full of question and wonder, Chuck's was full of self-loathing. Blair knew that even if Dorota and Vanya didn't. She knew he was wondering why anyone would trust him to be their child's godfather when he was so reckless and damaged himself. There was a time when Blair would have tried to ease his fears, convinced they were unfounded. That time was gone.

"You pay for wedding," Vanya explained. "You kept family from having big big fight. From making Dorota go back to country. You can make sure daughter is taken care of. Protected."

"Dorota… Vanya… I… I couldn't possibly…" Who in their right mind would ask them to be the godfather of their child, he wondered. Especially someone who had already bore witness to a number of his indiscretions as Dorota had. He could almost understand why Vanya would ask him. But Dorota knew better than to entrust him with such a responsibility.

"Mr. Chuck, please. Miss Blair already agree to be godmother. We want you be godfather," Dorota said, trying to encourage him to accept.

Chuck wondered if hell had penthouses. If he hadn't already cashed in his ticket for the underworld, the words he were about to utter should do it. He was certain he had no business agreeing to be a child's godfather. He was the epitome of what a girl shouldn't be involved with and what a boy shouldn't become. But Blair was the godmother and he needed an in with her. He half expected the floor to open up and suck him under the moment he agreed as retribution for more or less using the baby as a means to work his way back into her godmother's good graces.

"If you're sure," he said, completely unsure himself.

Vanya and Dorota both nodded furiously, solemnly.

"Positive," Vanya assured him.

"Then I would consider it an honor."

The floor didn't open up. Chuck assumed it was because deep down, he really was honored. He really did want to be the child's godfather and had every intention of doing the job right or at least to the best of his ability. It just so happened that he also had ulterior motives in agreeing to accept the position. Ulterior motives that led him to hope his penthouse in hell at least had a view of the lava-flowing river he'd once seen in a movie.

"I can't promise I'll be in any good at it though," he warned them.

_An understatement,_ Blair thought, chewing the inside of her cheek in an effort to keep her mouth shut.

"You be just fine at it," Dorota told him, hoping she was right. She turned to Vanya. "Pictures! We need pictures of Amelia with godparents."

"Miss Blair, stand beside Mr. Chuck and baby," Vanya directed, reaching for a camera. Blair did so, fighting what felt like butterflies under attack in her stomach as she positioned herself next to Chuck's chair.

"Amelia, wouldn't you say your godmother looks stunning this evening?" Chuck asked the baby while Vanya fumbled with the camera Eleanor and Cyrus had gifted them so they could document their child's life.

"She would if she weren't too busy thanking God her godfather hasn't dropped her yet," Blair muttered in reply.

Chuck nodded once. "Point conceded," he had to agree. It was an accomplishment, after all.

"Smile big!" Vanya cried, holding the camera up.

Blair and Chuck put on their fake smiles, mastered by years of faking them at societal events neither wanted to be at. Both of them understood that these pictures would end up in a scrapbook or a photo album and that one day, Amelia would see them. She didn't deserve to see her godfather fighting back his desire to beg for Blair's forgiveness or her godmother trying to deny the feelings she still held for the man sitting in front of her. She deserved to see two people, honored to be her godparents.

Vanya snapped several pictures before asking Blair to swap places with Chuck.

Blair scooped the baby from Chuck without a word and waited for him to stand.

"That baby looks good on you, Waldorf," he commented as he stood. Blair glared at him. He suddenly remembered how close they had been to sharing a child once upon a time. For the first time, he wished that test hard turned out differently. Maybe he would still have her now.

More pictures were snapped. The tension between the exes grew thicker. A knock sounded and a nurse appeared.

"I'm sorry, but regular visiting hours are over," she said kindly. She smiled at Dorota and Vanya before she left. Blair stood and gave the baby back to Dorota.

"Bye sweet girl," Blair cooed, leaning down to kiss the baby gently on the forehead. "I'll see you again tomorrow, after you come home from the hospital." Chuck waited until Blair had walked away to bid farewell to Vanya before approaching Dorota. Not to be outdone by Blair, he reached for the small hand that had escaped the bundle of blankets.

"Goodbye, beautiful," he said. "I too, shall see you tomorrow." The baby grasped his finger as Blair shot daggers at him across the room. Chuck couldn't stop the smile from appearing on his face, his heart warming just slightly. He didn't have a clue about how to be a godfather, but he would ensure that the little girl had every material thing she could ever want. And that no boy or man of the likes of him would get their hands on her heart.

The sound of Blair's heels clicking as she left the room brought him to his senses.

"Dorota, Vanya, congratulations," he said, glancing towards the door. "She's beautiful." He nodded them a farewell before hurrying out the door. Blair was she pushing the elevator button over and over down the hall in an effort to exit before Chuck left the room. He walked up beside her and pushed the button himself.

"I already pushed it,' she said, irritation coloring her voice.

"It comes faster when I push it," he replied in his velvet voice. She glared at him once more. He smirked.

"I'll take the stairs," she declared. Chuck raised an eyebrow.

"Seven floors?" he asked, following the line of her body down to the impossibly high stiletto heels she was wearing. "In those shoes?"

He earned himself another dagger-filled glare. The elevator chimed.

"Don't talk to me," Blair instructed, entering the elevator. She pinned herself into a corner. Chuck pushed the first floor button then lounged against the back wall few feet from Blair.

"So, we're godparents now," he said conversationally. "I think she looks like Vanya. Especially around the eyes. But she has Dorota's hair color. I assume her godmother will make sure she has a better sense of style than her parents do, however."

"I said not to speak," Blair snapped. Couldn't he do one simple thing for her? He owed her a silent elevator ride at the very least.

"Actually, you said don't talk to you, not don't speak," Chuck pointed out. "If I were talking to you, I would expect a reply. I'm merely filling the silence with meaningless chatter."

Blair huffed and crossed her arms, watching the digital floor numbers tick downward as they descended. The doors were barely sliding open when she bolted through them, her heel catching in the space between the elevator shaft and the floor in her haste to exit. She was on the ground before Chuck could comprehend that she was falling.

"Blair!" he exclaimed crouching beside her. "Are you okay?"

"My ankle!" she wailed, turning herself so she was sitting instead of facedown. He moved to study her ankle. It was already swelling.

"Ow!" Blair cried out, pushing Chuck's hand away from her ankle. Chuck looked at her and saw tears pooling in her deep brown eyes. He hated to see her cry or in pain and yet was always the cause of it. Even a simple accident like this that could have happened to anyone had been his fault as she had been in a rush to get away from him as quickly as possible.

"Come on," he said, sliding an arm under her knees, another behind her back. "Let's get that ankle looked out."

"I'm fine," Blair insisted as Chuck lifted her. "Put me down!" she demanded, squirming violently.

"Fine," Chuck agreed, just to prove her wrong. He set Blair on her feet. She tried to take a step, but yelped in pain, grabbing for the closest thing to hold onto. That thing happened to be Chuck. "One again, my point is proven. And you know I rather enjoy being right. He scooped her up once more as she rolled her eyes dramatically despite her pain.

"The no talking rule still stands, Bass," she informed him.

"Whatever you say, Waldorf."

For once, Chuck listened and remained silent as he carried Blair towards the ER. He sat her in a waiting room chair then spent some time at the desk, arguing with the attendant in a hushed voice. After a few minutes, he sat down as well and pulled out his phone. Moments later, Blair's phone buzzed. She retrieved it from her purse. It was a text from Chuck, advising her that the doctor would be seeing her shortly.

"Texting?" she asked him. "You're sitting right beside me."

Chuck texted her again.

_Not supposed to talk to u, remember? _

Blair read it then scoffed.

"Since when do you listen to anything I say?" she wanted to know.

_Turning over a new leaf. _

Torn between amusement and annoyance, she tossed her phone back in her bag. A nurse appeared and called her name, sparing a look of distain for Chuck who, Blair guessed, had somehow managed to expedite her time in the ER. Chuck stood and helped her to her feet without a word. Blair found his silence oddly unsettling instead of welcoming.

Throughout her initial checkup and then her x-ray, Chuck stayed nearby, always in her line of sight, but didn't say a word directly to her. He did, however, question the doctors and throw around his power a bit when he thought they were taking too long to get her into x-ray. By the time all was said and done, she was diagnosed with a moderate sprain and advised to stay off of her feet for the next few days. It wasn't until she refused to use the crutches provided for her that Chuck addressed her directly.

"Blair, please."

"I'm not using them. I don't need them." She stood on one foot, her injured one hovering just off the ground.

"Fine. Try to walk, then," Chuck argued. Blair took a step forward and immediately cried out in pain. Chuck held her crutches out to her. She cursed under her breath as she snatched them from him, awkwardly navigating her way out of the ER. Chuck picked up her bag and called Arthur to bring the car around while following her down the hall. Outside, she hobbled to the edge of the sidewalk and held up an arm in an attempt to hail a cab. Chuck sighed.

"Blair, what are you doing?" he asked.

"Calling a cab. I certainly can't walk home like this."

"Get in the limo, Blair."

"Not with you." A cab pulled up to the curb. Blair reached for the door handle, stumbling slightly. Chuck reached for her, steadied her. He motioned for the cabbie to wait for just a moment then turned to Arthur.

"Arthur, take Miss Waldorf home. Make sure she gets inside and into her penthouse."

"Arthur doesn't drive a cab," Blair pointed out. "And I'm taking a cab home."

"No, you're not. You're going in the limo. I'll take the cab home."

"Home," Blair repeated. "To The Empire." Her eyes were cold, her words sharp as glass. Chuck felt them as they cut through him.

"I'll have someone pick up your pain medicine and bring it to you," he continued, swallowing hard. "Please, just do what the doctors asked and take it easy for a few days."

"I'll have someone pick up my pain medicine myself," she countered.

"Dorota just had a kid," Chuck reminded her. "And your temporary maid is gone by now, is she not?"

Blair simmered.

"Right again, I see. I really am on roll today." He started guiding her towards the limo. She allowed it simply because if she didn't, Chuck would either physically pick her up and put her in the limo or he would send the cabbie off and stand on the street arguing with her until he won. He took her crutches from her and put them in the limo first before helping her ease inside. His couldn't stop himself from ghosting his fingertips along her jaw. "Blair…," he sighed. It was impossible to pull away.

"Thank you," she said so softly he nearly missed it. He looked at her, his eyes locking with hers. She looked on the brink of tears, whether from pain or him he didn't know. He could gander a guess, however. He himself was close to falling apart.

"I would do _anything_ for you," he told her, his words raw with emotion. He leaned forward and kissed her softly on her forehead. Then he was gone, shutting the door before Blair could reply.

"Make sure she gets home safe," he told Arthur again. He passed the man a couple of crisp green bills.

"Yes, Mr. Bass," Arthur nodded, slipping the money in his jacket. Chuck waited until the limo pulled away from the curve before passing the cabbie another green bill and sending him on his way. Still standing on the sidewalk, he pulled out his phone and made a couple of phone calls, one sending someone to pick up Blair's pills and deliver them to her penthouse, another arranging to have her favorite croissants and a simple bouquet of peonies delivered to her in the morning.

He then started walking in the direction of The Empire, despite the fact that it was more than 20 blocks away and the hour was growing late. He needed air and he needed to think.

It had suddenly become abundantly clear to him that as long as he had The Empire, he would not have Blair Waldorf.

***Whew. With that, the groundwork for the two is laid. And let the record state that I rather dislike that stupid hotel these days. I would, however, take the painting that hangs over Chuck's bed. Sadly, I most likely won't be able to update until Friday or so.* **


	6. Chapter 6

**FINALLY! I have wanted to get this posted for days, but school had to come first. My finals start at the end of this week, but I'm hoping to get in at least one more update between now and then. I've been wanting to write the next update for a while now, so I'm kind of excited. :p **

**If you haven't gotten a reply from me from your last review, you should get one this evening – I'm going through them slowly but surely, but I have most definitely read ALL of them and I love them to pieces. Thank you so so so so much. And for those I replied to and said 'update on Saturday' – sorry about that. I did intend to update yesterday, but I had also intended to end this update where Chuck leaves but… that didn't happen because I had a thought and well, you can read what happened from there. But THANK YOU to everyone who reviews, reads, adds me to your favorites… I truly truly appreciate it. You all are amazing! **

**THINGS I OWN: More orange clothing than someone who doesn't support my college's athletics program would approve of. GBO! THINGS I DON'T OWN: Gossip Girl. Shame.

* * *

**

Chuck Bass was a lot of things but ignorant was not one of them. He knew better than to show up at the Waldorf's penthouse without an offering while on Blair's blacklist. He also knew he was far too low on that blacklist for jewelry or chocolates to do him any good. Most people in his position would cower and run the other direction with their tail between their legs. Not him. Because he was confident, as he stepped into Blair's foyer, that he had an offering even Blair Waldorf wouldn't refuse.

It was Serena who entered the foyer to investigate the elevator chime.

"Chuck," she said, her voice showing a hint of surprise at seeing him there.

"Serena," he replied in a neutral voice with a casual nod of greeting. "Blair is in her bedroom?"

"The media room, actually," Serena corrected, her voice taking on a stiffer sound.

"_Breakfast at Tiffany's_?" Chuck guessed.

"_Roman Holiday_, actually. _Breakfast at Tiffany's_ just ended."

Chuck nodded and started towards the media room. Serena blocked his path.

"I'm not sure if she wants to see you," she told him.

"I assure you, she doesn't," Chuck replied. "But that's never stopped me before." He made to move around Serena, but again, she blocked his path.

"Really, sis, this is getting quite old," he drawled, crossing his arms.

"She's my best friend," Serena replied, not backing down. "I don't know what you did to her, but I'm on her side."

"As you should be," Chuck answered. "She needs you." Serena looked surprised that he was agreeing with her. He used her temporary state of shock to his advantage and slipped around her, walking down the hall to the Waldorf's media room, newly renovated by Cyrus.

"Who was it, Serena?" Blair asked when she heard footsteps, not bothering to turn towards the door. She was sitting in the center of the overstuffed sofa, wearing silk pajamas, her sprained ankle propped up on a pillow resting on top of a leather covered ottoman.

"The love of your life," Chuck said, strolling into the room portraying far more confidence than he actually had that she wouldn't kick him out. Blair turned to glare at him.

"I see no Paul Varjak," she retorted.

"Personally, I consider myself as more of a Don Juan," he said smoothly. He lowered himself into an armchair as Serena appeared.

"Serena, would you be terrible disappointed if I stole Vanya away from your building?" Blair asked, her eyes on Chuck. "It appears my doorman gives just anyone access to the building."

"Do steal Vanya away from the Palace," Chuck encouraged, his fingertips pressed together, right ankle resting on left knee. "He's rather fond of me – should help expedite my trip from the foyer to le chateau de Waldorf."

Blair scoffed and tore her eyes from Chuck, wishing she were in something more dignified than pajamas.

"Chuck, why are you here?" Serena wanted to know, settling into the spot next to Blair on the sofa.

"I came to see how Blair was faring," he answered. His eyes swept over Blair as though he were looking for new injuries.

"I'm fine," Blair informed him, chin tipped up, haughty as ever. "You can see yourself out."

"But then I would miss _Roman Holiday_," he countered. "And you would miss out on what I have in my pocket."

"I think we can all miss out on that," Serena muttered, not entirely comfortable with being stuck between Chuck and Blair. They were known for being too passionate, whether in love or at war.

"Nothing you have, Chuck, Bass could entice me into letting you stay," Blair stated. Chuck smirked and reached into his pocket, pulling out a sleek Kodak camera he had picked up earlier in the day when this grand plan had came to him.

"I beg to differ," he said, holding it up. He could see the conflict in Blair. She was curious – too curious. But she was also hell bent on not accepting anything from him if she could help it. He looped the camera's wristband over his finger and held it out further, letting it swing back and forth, baiting her. "There is something on this camera you won't be able to resist." He watched Blair bite her lip.

"See what's on it, Serena," she finally snapped. "Most likely an exclusive sneak peek into Chuck Bass's first porno flick."

"First?" Chuck replied, letting Serena take the camera from him. Blair rolled her eyes and looked away from him. Serena turned the camera on and pushed a couple of buttons, trying to figure out what she was looking for. She let out a gasp when the pictures stored on the camera popped up on screen.

"Look, Blair!" she exclaimed. "It's Amelia!"

"Let me see!" Blair grabbed for the camera, forgetting all about Chuck. He sat in his chair, content to watch the two girls hover together over the camera, oohing and awing at the photos the way only women would over a baby. Though, he had to admit, Amelia was rather cute.

Chuck knew he was at a crossroads. There were two roads to choose from – Blair or The Empire. Blair was, without a doubt, his choice. He wanted to figure out the magic words, the right gesture, whatever it was Blair needed from him. He didn't just want Blair, he needed her. He had meant it when he'd said he wasn't Chuck Bass without her, though he didn't realize just how true of a statement that was until he was without her.

The Blair road was the treacherous one, however. He had no guarantees that he could win her back, gain her trust again. He had met Blair when he was all of four years old and it had taken him the next fourteen years to work up the courage to say I love you. After everything he had done, everything he had put her through, would she be able to give him just one more chance? Did she even still love him? Choosing Blair would mean effectively risking it all. Could he do that with no guarantees?

If he took The Empire, the risk was much less. He already had the hotel. It was his. It was physical proof of everything he had worked for. It was also physical proof of what he had done to Blair. Once he he'd left the building after more than three weeks of being holed up inside it's four walls, he had realized how much of a jail cell the place had become. Each time he re-entered the building, he felt what little light and hope restored in him by interactions with the outside world drain away. By the time he entered his penthouse, he felt condemned. Condemned to a life of isolation, loneliness. Darkness.

A plan had started taking shape in the recesses of his mind as he had walked home from the hospital two nights ago. It was one of the biggest risks he would ever take, right up there with returning from Europe for Blair and agreeing to give her to Jack. It was possibly even immoral of him. Again, there was no way to know how things would turn out in the end. Was it worth acting on a plan that may hurt other people he cared about in the process if he didn't know how it would end?

"She's so beautiful," Blair was saying. "I have to see her soon. Tomorrow, maybe." She handed the camera back to Serena who passed it back to Chuck.

"Send me those pictures," Blair directed him, not quite looking at him.

"Only if I can stay and watch _Roman Holiday_," Chuck countered. That got Blair to look at him.

"You're blackmailing me with baby pictures."

Chuck shrugged.

"I see it as a fair trade, but call it what you will."

Serena looked at Blair, waiting for either a volcanic eruption or a cold war declaration.

"Fine," Blair muttered. "Serena, start the movie. Bass, don't speak."

"Cold war it is," Serena muttered to herself, reaching for the remote. Two hours spent between two people so in love and so damaged was going to be trying, even for her. She prayed there wouldn't be bloodshed. Or worse, break up sex.

"I'm starting to think you have a thing for the silent type," Chuck said. Blair ignored him. Serena pressed play.

For two hours, Blair dutiful ignored Chuck who, to her surprise, remained completely silent, just as he had in the emergency room two nights ago. But while he didn't verbally say anything, she could feel his eyes on her, watching her, trying to tell her something he himself couldn't quite put together.

She knew better than to think his visit was casual. Maybe he had wanted to check on her – she surprisingly didn't doubt that – but he had other intentions. He always did. The peonies and the croissants she had woken to the previous morning had been thoughtful though misguided. It didn't help either of them move on. True to his word, he had her pain killers delivered and Arthur had not only helped her out of the limo, but up to the penthouse, just had Chuck had ordered – paid, most likely – him to do. Now he was here, smart enough to know not to show up empty handed, but not with something materialistic. The photos of Amelia, she had to admit, were well played on his part.

As she sat there, her eyes trained on a movie she wasn't watching, she couldn't help but wonder why Chuck hadn't said a word about what had happened between them in their last two interactions. She knew his game. He was slowly trying to woo her back into his good graces. Then, when her guard was down, he would make his move, some grand gesture to win her back. She wouldn't fall for it. Not this time. She could never say never when Chuck Bass was a part of the equation, but the wounds were deep and the scars they left likely permanent.

Chuck watched Blair as she pretended to watch the movie. She was thinking. A lot. He could tell by the slightest crease in her forehead, the way her pursed and unpursed her lips. He knew somehow that she was thinking about him, likely trying to piece together why he was there, what he was doing. What else he wanted from her.

In truth, he wasn't sure why he was there himself. He knew he wasn't wanted, but the need to see her had been so overwhelmingly powerful after the limo had taken her from him that after two days of fighting it, he hadn't able to restrain himself any longer. He was overcome with the sudden urge to tell her he loved her, needed her, missed her. But he knew it wasn't the time. He could only hope and throw up a silent prayer to whatever god or goddess was listening that there would, one day, be a time.

The final scenes of the movie played out and Chuck knew it was time for him to go. He waited until the credits finished rolling before standing. Serena's cell phone rang out. She lunged for it.

"It's my mom," she said, leaving the room to take the call, an apprehensive look on her face. Chuck followed her out with his eyes then turned them back to Blair.

"Do you need anything?" he asked.

"No," Blair said, shaking her head and surprising herself by not making a snarky comment to answer his question. "Just send me those pictures when you get a chance, okay?"

"As soon as I get home," Chuck promised. And he would. He couldn't mess up even the smallest of things if he wanted any chance at all of winning Blair back. He glanced towards the door Serena had disappeared through. "How is she?" he asked.

"Worried," Blair answered honestly. "Not as okay as she tries to be. You should go over there, see Lily. And Eric."

Chuck shrugged and avoided her eyes.

"Maybe," he said nonchalantly, dismissing the conversation. Blair narrowed her eyes in concern but didn't say anything. She knew Chuck was avoiding Lily out of fear. If they were still together, she would have already pushed him to go see Lily. But she kept silent on the matter now. She couldn't clean up another Chuck Bass mess when she herself was living in one. Serena re-entered the room looking relieved, the apprehension from just a couple minutes earlier gone.

"B, remind me to stop off at The City Bakery when I leave here. Mom wants some of their cookies," she said, settling next to Blair again. "She's finally feeling better after her last treatment. If she has her appetite back, I'm willing to get her whatever she wants." Chuck studied Serena as Blair put an arm around her and comforted the girl in a way only a best friend could. The wheels turning in his head.

"How is Lily these days?" he inquired.

"Sick," Serena replied with a bite in her voice. "Which you would know if you ever visited her."

Chuck had to concede her point.

"Your father is still treating her." It wasn't a question.

"He's one of the best at what he does," Blair said, daring Chuck with her eyes to continue.

"Of course," Chuck nodded. He was starting to realize he had spent too much time wallowing in self-pity and loathing his very existence in the darkness of his penthouse while everything around him went to hell. He was a powerful man and had never been afraid to exercise that power. If ever there was a time for it, that time was now. "Ladies, you've been a pleasure," he said, tipping an imaginary hat at the two. "I'll see myself out."

Blair glared at him as he left.

"He's up to something," she stated. She could practically see the scheme coming together in his head as he left.

"You don't know that," Serena argued, her head on Blair's shoulder. "He may have honestly just wanted to check up on you. He was with you when you got hurt, after all."

"He's Chuck Bass," Blair countered. "And he is _always_ up to something."

"Blair, I know you're mad at him. But he does love you, even if he isn't great at showing it. I don't think he's taking your break up too well. Nate is worried about him."

"Nate is worried about Chuck?" Blair demanded. "Chuck?" She was suddenly enraged. Nate was the one person outside of herself, Chuck, and Jack that knew what Chuck had done and he was worried about Chuck Bass?

"He's Nate's best friend. Of course Nate is worried," Serena argued, lifting her head from Blair's shoulder. "Though, things have been a bit – strained – between them since the two of you broke up." That knowledge soothed Blair's anger only slightly. "B, when are you going to tell me what happened between the two of you? I'm on your side, of course, but it would be nice to know why I'm furious at Chuck."

"You're furious at him because he broke my heart!" Blair screeched. "That's enough of a reason to be furious with him!"

"Come on, B. This has gone on long enough. I'm your best friend. Regardless of how hard you try to hide it, I can tell this thing with Chuck is killing you. So just tell me already. What happened between you two?"

Blair toyed with the fringe on a throw pillow. Keeping everything bottled up and secretive was taking a toll on her. She slept less, her appetite was off. The thought of purging was getting harder and harder to push back. She did need to confide in someone besides Nate who had been wrapped up in all things Serena since his birthday. She could tell Serena what happened, she decided, just not all of it.

"Chuck… He did something," she started, not sure if she could voice it, say it out loud. She had only said it out loud to once. Telling Serena what happened would make it more real, more tangible. Serena took her hand and squeezed it, encouraging her.

"What did he do, B?"

"He… He used…," Blair struggled to put it together. Tears threatened the back of her eyes. "He used me to get The Empire back."

Serena frowned, not quite understanding, hand still intertwined with Blair's.

"What do you mean? Used you how?"

"He used me, Serena. Let's just leave it at that." Blair decided she didn't want to talk about it anymore. She disengaged her hand from Serena's and pulled her knees to her chest before she remembered her ankle was sprained. She hissed in pain and stretched her leg back out, resting her ankle back on it's pillow.

"B, I need more than that," Serena pressed. "Chuck loves you. He wouldn't do anything he thought would hurt you."

"He did!" Blair snapped. "He did the worse thing he has ever done. To me. And if he can do that to me, I'm not sure he ever loved me in the first place." There. She had admitted her biggest fear from this whole ordeal – that Chuck had never really loved her in the first place.

Serena knew when not to reply, regardless of how much she wanted to point out to Blair that they were talking about Chuck Bass, the same Chuck Bass who never said I love you, never let himself get tied down, never let anyone in - except for her. Chuck would love Blair forever. That was one of the very few things in life Serena was sure of.

"Let's watch another movie before I go home," she suggested, effectively changing the subject. Getting into a fight with Blair was the last thing she could handle right now. "I'm picking this time." She got up and started pursuing Cyrus's very extensive movie collection. "Are these in any sort of order?" she wanted to know.

"Alphabetical by director or production company or something," Blair replied dismissively. "We could watch _Charade_."

"I'm Hepburned out," Serena informed her. She pulled a DVD from the shelf. "What about _Indecent Proposal_? I haven't seen this one in a while."

"Never seen it," Blair replied, a bit sore over _Charade_ being scorned. Serena wasn't surprised Blair hadn't seen it. If Audrey Hepburn wasn't in it, there was a good chance Blair hadn't bothered to watch it.

"_Indecent Proposal_ it is," Serena said, already putting the putting the DVD in. "You're like it, B, promise."

"Maybe," Blair replied. She ordered the temporary maid to bring them more popcorn, already looking forward to the day Dorota would return. The movie started and it didn't take her long to become engrossed in the story of David and Diana. David reminded her a bit of Chuck, she decided, as she watched him and Diana discuss their plans to finance their future through gambling in Vegas. His determination to succeed, to win big, was eerily similar to Chuck's.

When billionaire John Gage appeared on screen, she thought she could see the plot twist coming from a mile away. Diana was going to fall in love with Gage, divorce David, and live happily ever after as the wife of a billionaire while David lamented the loss of his wife and all his money to boot. Which, she thought, didn't make much sense when one considered the name of the movie. There was nothing indecent about that, at least not in her opinion. On screen, David was playing pool, debating with Gage if there was something money couldn't buy. Blair thought the answer was quite clear – love.

"_Suppose... I were to offer you one million dollars for one night with your wife," the character of Gage said. _Blair's attention was suddenly acute. Serena smirked slightly, sure now that Blair was enjoying the movie, even if it did lack Audrey Hepburn and was made after the 60s.

"_I'd assume you're kidding_," David replied on screen. Blair felt short of breath. The desire to look away from the screen was strong. And yet, she couldn't turn away.

"_Let's pretend I'm not. What would you say?"_ Gage asked.

_"He'd tell you to go to hell,"_ Diana informed him.

"_I didn't hear him."_ It was now Gage that reminded her of Chuck. Or maybe he reminded her of Jack.

"_I'd tell you to go to hell."_ David certainly no longer reminded her of Chuck. Chuck hadn't told Jack to go to hell.

"_That's a reflex answer because you view the question as hypothetical,"_ Gage was saying on screen_. "But let's say that there was real money backing it up. I'm not kidding. A million dollars. The night would come and go but the money could last a lifetime. Think of it. A million dollars. A lifetime of security... for one night. Don't answer right away. Just consider it; seriously?" _

Blair fell back on the sofa, her heart racing. Images of the Matthew Williamson dress, of the note inside it's box, of Jack in Chuck's penthouse, of Chuck waiting for her in the lobby of her building flashed through her mind at the speed of light, one right after another, rapidly firing, triggering a full on panic attack.

"Turn it off," she said, her voice raspy.

"What?" Serena asked, pulling her attention from the movie she had become engrossed in. She recognized immediately that something was wrong. "B! What is it? What's wrong?" she asked, scrambling to sit on her knees on the sofa beside Blair.

"Turn it off, Serena! Turn it off right now!" Blair was ghostly white, sweat beads forming on her forehead. The images continued flashing. Jack's hand on her knee. Her hand stinging after it landed across Chuck's face. Yanking her dress off in the privacy of her childhood bedroom as tears fell freely. Serena lunged for the remote, turned the TV off.

"Blair, what's going on? Talk to me!" she begged, scared for her friend. She nearly called for Dorota for back up but remembered just in time that Dorota wasn't there.

Blair's teary, panic filled eyes met Serena's. Her bottom lip trembled. Her entire body shook.

"_He used me to get The Empire back." _

Blair's words from earlier suddenly rang out in Serena's mind. Serena gasped.

"Oh my God."

* * *

**Thanks to IMDB's Indecent Proposal page for the movie quotes. Hopefully I remembered the storyline correctly - been quite a while since I last saw it! Please keep y'all's awesome reviews coming!  
**


	7. Chapter 7

**It's been a long week of studying and presenting and pondering why, exactly, it is so difficult to wake up for an 8am class yet so easy to wake up for an 8am – anything else, but I'm nearly done, just one more to go. I've been anxious to finish this all week. And then yesterday, I watched a certain UK promo right before my second exam yesterday. I wanted to hurl things at the computer. But refrained. That's why there is fan fiction. **

**Once again, THANK YOU to everyone who reviews!!! I'm like a kid on Christmas reading them. I'm working on replying to the latest ones, so if you haven't gotten a reply, it should be coming soon! **

**THINGS I OWN: Every color of Old Navy flip flops known to mankind. THINGS I DON'T OWN: Gossip Girl. Because if I did, Season 3 would have gone down a heck of a lot different. **

For the second time that day, Chuck covered up his nerves as he stepped off an elevator and into a penthouse foyer. This time, however, the opponent was a lot less formidable than Blair Waldorf.

He wasn't sure what he would find as he walked into the van der Woodsen-Humphrey living room. He knew Lily was sick, but would she look like a cancer patient? Would she be too thin, her hair falling out if not gone completely from the chemo treatments? Or would she look like the Lily he pictured whenever he thought of his pseudo mother, no signs of cancer or illness visible in her well-aged face? It pained him that he was even considering stereotyping Lily in the role of a cancer patient like those he saw on TV medical dramas. It shouldn't be this way.

"Charles!" Lily exclaimed when he appeared, putting aside a magazine she had been reading. She stood to greet him. He tried not to notice how she grabbed the sofa's arm to steady herself. She was somewhere between the Lily he knew and the sick Lily he had pictured, he decided. She was thinner and looked tired. Her measured movements gave away how weak she was. A scarf that matched her casual blue and white outfit was tied strategically over her head, but stands of blond hair could be seen, proof her hair had started to fall out.

"Lily" he greeted, walking over to his – well, mother wasn't quite the right word despite the papers that made it so. 'Stepmother' didn't do her justice. however. He didn't know what Lily was to him, exactly, but she was someone who mattered to Chuck Bass and that made her worth his time.

Lily kissed his cheek and gave his shoulders a brief squeeze, refraining from the full on hug she wished to give her adopted son. How he felt towards her seemed to depend on which direction the wind blew that day and there was always an underlying fear that she would cross some invisible line Chuck had drawn between them for one reason or another. Feeling weak, she sat down on the opposite end of the sofa from where she had been moments earlier.

"Have a seat, Charles," she instructed, motioning to the sofa.

"I come bearing gifts," Chuck said, holding out a box of cookies from The City Bakery. "I just came from Blair's and Serena mentioned you wanted her to pick some up. I was heading here to discuss something with you anyway and thought I'd try to bribe you into forgiving me for being so absent as of late."

Lily couldn't help but smile as she took the cookies. Charles really was quite the charmer.

"Thank you, Charles," she said, opening the lid and removing a cookie. She offered him the box, but he held up a hand in refusal. "You were at Blair's, were you? Does that mean the pair of you have worked things out?"

Chuck felt a pang in his chest.

"Not exactly," he admitted. "But I assure you that reconciling with Blair is at the top of my priorities."

"As it should be," Lily agreed. "She's good for you."

_She's too good for me_, Chuck corrected silently. He felt Lily's eyes on him, sizing him up. He was getting tired of the feeling, but he supposed when one materialized in the outside world after nearly a month of being a hermit it was to be expected. He checked his phone as a means of distracting himself from Lily's knowing gaze.

"It gets old, doesn't it?" she asked him.

"What does?"

"Being scrutinized. Walking into a room full of people you have known at least in passing for much of your life and feeling their eyes on you, knowing they are appraising you, judging how sick you are or how heartbroken you are…"

"It's all a part of being part of the Upper East Side," Chuck replied, acting as though Lily had not read his mind for what it was.

"I suppose," Lily replied. "Though it's quite unjust if you ask me."

"Dinner is nearly ready," Rufus Humphrey announced, appearing in the living room from the direction of the kitchen. His eyes registered surprise when he saw Chuck sitting with his wife.

"Chuck," he greeted, offering him his hand. It occurred to Chuck that Rufus rarely referred to him as Charles the way most, if not all, of his elders did. He supposed that was the Brooklyn in Rufus. He stood and shook hands.

"Humphrey," he replied, unable to quite stoop to Rufus's casual level. He seated himself again, moving to an armchair so Rufus could sit beside Lily.

"You'll be staying for dinner," Lily informed him, closing her hand around the one Rufus had rested on her knee.

"I couldn't impose," Chuck said. It had never been his intention to stick around for a family dinner.

"We insist," Rufus replied. "There's more than enough to go around, probably twice. We won't take no for an answer."

"In fact, we won't discuss whatever it is you came to discuss until we've eaten," Lily told him, effectively trapping him into a dinner.

"Dinner it is," Chuck relented. He needed to talk to Lily and it needed to be done now, while she was on the upside from a treatment. He would rather not enact his plan B. It would win him no favors. Rufus led the way to the dining room, pulling out a seat for Lily. Chuck took the seat across from her.

"I'll be right back," Rufus said, disappearing from the room.

"He's been wonderful during all of this," Lily told Chuck. "I don't know what I'd do without him."

Chuck merely nodded in reply, Rufus already back with a bottle of wine for himself and Chuck, tea for Lily. He took the opportunity to ponder whether or not Rufus was technically his stepfather. He assumed that was the case as Lily was, at least according to the state of New York, his mother and Rufus was now her husband.

Dinner was a decent enough affair. They exchanged small talk over pot roast which, Chuck had to admit, wasn't half bad. If Rufus hadn't married Lily, he certainly could have made a survival salary as a chef at a two or three star restaurant. When dinner was over, Rufus signaled for their live in maid to take their dishes away. Chuck hid his smirk. Humphrey might still cook but dishes were now beneath him. Lily's phone alarm sounded and she excused herself to take her next dose of medicine. Chuck rounded on Rufus the moment she was out of earshot.

"How is she?" he asked. "Be honest."

Rufus sighed, the strong front he put on for Lily showing cracks now that she was out of the room. "Some days are better than others. Today is a good day. Her next treatment is Monday. The next couple of days after that will be bad ones. Then she'll start doing better and it will start all over again."

"What's her prognosis?" Chuck pressed.

"According to her? Or Dr. van der Woodsen?" Rufus inquired. Chuck narrowed his eyes.

"Both."

"Lily takes it one day at a time. She doesn't focus on the outcome and tells us we're ridiculous for doing the same. William, however, is treating her with experimental drugs not approved by the FDA. He says that's her only chance at getting better."

Chuck studied Rufus. "You don't trust him."

"Would you?" Rufus countered. They heard Lily's footsteps returning to the dining room.

"I'll call my P.I. first thing in the morning," Chuck told Rufus. Rufus nodded once to show is approval. Lily returned and reclaimed her seat, the box of cookies in tow. She put them on the table for the taking. Both Chuck and Rufus ignored them, purposefully leaving them for her as it was the one thing she had requested.

"Now, Charles, what is it you wanted to talk to me about?" Lily asked.

Chuck put on his business mask. He leaned back in his chair and tented his fingertips just below his chin.

"I have a business proposal for you," he told her.

"A business proposal?" Lily repeated. "I was under the impression that everything was going well at The Empire. But if it's not, I'm positive I can get the board of Bass Industries to throw some funding behind you."

"Business at The Empire is doing just fine," Chuck replied, almost begrudgingly. "Better than I had anticipated, even, given the economy. However, I think it's time to take back what's mine."

Lily raised her eyebrow. Rufus sat quietly, intent to listen to the exchange. The business world was Lily's thing, but his interest in where Chuck was going with this proposal of his was piqued.

"And what, dare I ask, would that be?" Lily was certain she knew the answer before she asked.

"I want your shares of Bass Industries. All of them. I'm willing to pay whatever price tag you put on them. But I want them." Rufus frowned slightly. It was a tall order of Chuck Bass, to sit at their dinner table and request the shares of a company he had given up. He also felt a pang of pity for him. The boy was all of nineteen years old and already had more experience in the business world than a lot of MBA carriers.

"Just a few months ago you were throwing Bass Industries to the wind and striking out on your own. Why the change of heart?" Lily inquired. She watched Chuck tap his fingertips together, calculating his reply.

"The Empire is thriving. It's the perfect time to sell. It's a buyer's market and the perfect investment property for a first timer. I've considered buying another hotel – and I still may – but if Bass Industries is going to continue to carry my name, I want to be the one at the helm."

Lily studied him for several long moments. Her maternal instincts were spiking, but she couldn't put her finger on what it was that was setting them off. There was something more at work than just a business deal.

"You know as well as I do, Charles, that I only have a 20% share of the company. Even if I did sell them to you, you would have to come up with another 31% to regain control of the company."

Chuck leaned forward. He had an ace up his sleeve he could guarantee Lily thought was a well kept secret.

"You have a 30% share, actually. You bought yourself another handful of shares when I cashed out. It appears that someone by the name of 'H.V.L.' also bought a significant amount of shares formally belonging to Chuck Bass. 15% if my math is right. It strikes me as rather peculiar that 'H.V.L.' just happens to be Lily van der Woodsen Humphrey's initials – backwards." He watched as Lily's expression shifted to one of surprise. "If my math is right, you own 45% of Bass Industries these days."

"I have my reasons for purchasing those shares," Lily told him calmly. "And I know you held on to 5% of yours. Which means if you manage to acquire mine, you'll own exactly half of the company."

"The controlling interest, yes," Chuck nodded. "The board took advantage of my cashing out to buy up stock, increase their holdings to 35%. That leaves 15 for the taking on Wall Street. To ensure a controlling interest, I'll be buying another few shares under the radar before our deal is finalized."

"In essences, you're planning a hostile takeover of your father's own company," Lily stated, spelling it out for what it was.

"It's not hostile when you're taking back what's yours," Chuck replied.

Lily shook her head.

"Charles, there's a reason I bought those shares. I'm going to advise you to hold on to The Empire, at least for a while. You'll get what is yours in the end." Rufus shifted around in his seat. He was in on Lily's 'the end' plan and didn't exactly support it, in principle alone.

Chuck shook his head.

"My mind is made up about The Empire. It has to go. Bass Industries was left for me to run. It's time I took ownership of that fact."

"Well, I'm not selling," Lily told him firmly. "And I recommend you don't either."

"Surely I can change your mind. I'll give you…" Chuck did the math in his head, the one subject in school he had actually shown some promise at. "15% more than what they're worth. That should still give you a neat little profit on them. Especially since they're worth less now than they were when I sold them."

"You know money is not the issue here."

"Then what is the issue?" Chuck asked. Rufus's frown deepened at the condescending tone Chuck used.

"You gave up Bass Industries for a reason," Lily reminded him. "You've done well so far. See it through." The elevator chimed and the sound of heels clicking on the floor sounded through the home.

"I've seen it through," Chuck told her. "And therein lies the problem." He had seen The Empire through, alright. Through the hands of the owner he bought it from, into his eager ones, to Jack's filthy hands, and back again to his now greedy ones as he let Blair slip through them. The sound of heels grew rapid, sounded more fierce. "I'm giving you the chance to do this the easy way, Lily. I don't want to make this, to borrow your words, hostile." Serena appeared in the dining room then, facing blazing.

"You bastard!" she shrieked, eyes narrowed in on Chuck like a hawk zeroed in on it's prey. Chuck looked up at her, surprised at her sudden appearance.

"So I've been called a time or two," he drawled, quickly recovering.

"How could you?" Serena demanded. "How could you do that to her?"

"Serena! What is going on here?" Lily asked, looking from Serena to Chuck. Rufus looked on, just as confused.

Chuck felt his stomach turn. Serena knew. Blair must have finally cracked, finally confided in someone besides Nate. He stood from his seat. He didn't want to put this kind of stress on Lily. He certainly didn't want Lily to know the true reason he was no longer with Blair. The list of people who didn't hate him was already painfully short without crossing her name off of it.

"Serena…" Chuck started. Serena cut him off.

"No! You answer me Chuck! How could you do that to her? How could you be so cruel to her?" Serena was livid. She had held Blair and cried with her for over an hour before Blair had calmed down enough to tell Serena the whole story. Once she confessed that Nate knew the truth, Serena had called him to sit with Blair so she could pick up the cookies her mother wanted and grab a change of clothes to sleep in. She was too furious, too angry, to ignore Chuck Bass's voice as it floated out to her once she'd entered the penthouse.

"This doesn't concern you," Chuck told her evenly.

"Yes, it does," Serena informed him. "It started concerning me the second Blair called me a month ago, sobbing because it was over between you two. It started concerning me when she had a panic attack while watching Indecent Proposal with me earlier. It started concerning me when I had to hold my best friend as she fell apart all over again thanks to a movie that was eerily similar to her real life!"

"She had a panic attack?" Chuck wanted to know, forgetting anything else Serena had said. He knew Blair had them occasionally. They were rare, brought on only when she couldn't take anymore, and they always left her worse for the wear for a day or two. "Is she okay?"

Serena scoffed.

"That's not your concern," she told him.

"Serena, is she okay?" Chuck repeated. Serena shook her head.

"She is far from okay," she told him. "You saw to that." Chuck hung his head, ashamed.

"Serena, Chuck, what's going on?" Rufus asked again.

"Nothing," Chuck muttered.

"No, tell them, Chuck," Serena said, crossing her arms. "Tell them why Blair broke up with you. I'm sure mom would love to know."

"This is between Blair and me." It came out as a warning. Serena didn't press him on the matter, recognizing then that her mother didn't need to be stressed out any more than she already was.

"You were supposed to love her, Chuck," she said, her voice full of disappointment.

"I do," Chuck growled from somewhere deep in his throat, suddenly on the defense. "Do not question that." If he had ever been honest about one thing in his life, it was that he loved Blair. It had taken him long enough to be honest about that fact as it was.

Serena shook her head sadly.

"Look what you did to her, Chuck. That's not love."

Chuck found he had no argument to make. He knew how he felt about Blair, but actions were louder than words and in this case, his actions belted out volumes yet unheard by mankind.

"Just tell me if she's okay," he said instead.

"No, she's not okay," Serena answered. "But she will be. Because she has me. And Nate. Dorota. Even her parents. You though…" Serena looked at him as though he were a stranger invading her home. "How do you sleep at night?"

One of the very last threads of emotion Chuck had holding him together snapped. He felt it as it happened, a pang that started somewhere in his heart and traveled to the depths of his stomach. His already weak grasp on reality slipped a little further into a form of oblivion so deep he had never experienced it, not even with all the drugs and alcohol that had passed through his system in the time he had come to refer to as 'before Blair.'

"With pills," he answered Serena. His voice was low, even, emotion threatening to creep in from the edges. "Pills and scotch. Without them, I have nightmares of men in fedoras taking Blair away from me. Sometimes she's screaming for them to let her go. Other times she's calling out for me to save her. And I always get there too late. Always too late. I wake up drenched in sweat and for just a few seconds, I forget that Blair isn't there and I reach over for her. All I get is empty, cold sheets. It's an overpowering clash with reality that reminds me of what I've done and what it cost me. So pills and scotch is how I sleep at night."

A pin falling to the floor would have echoed around the dining room like an exploding bomb following Chuck's speech. Serena seemed shocked into silence with his admission. Lily and Rufus stared at him with eyes only parents could have, trying to piece together what was going on. He couldn't take it anymore.

"Lily, I'll be in touch," he said. He fled from the penthouse and was in the safety of his limo so fast Arthur didn't have a chance to open the door for him. Tinted windows protecting him from the outside world, he buried his face in his hands and forced deep breaths to fill his aching chest.

**Hmm… I wonder how much longer Chuck can toe the line between appearances and reality before he slips? Anywho… I sense a Baptism in the future… **


	8. Chapter 8

**Exams = DONE. I should be able to write/update a little more frequently, especially for the next week and a half before I start my internship, but even then I should be updating regularly. I'm so glad everyone is liking Chuck's POV. The show seems to have forgotten he has one. I'm anxious for the season finale, but I'm going to hold on to hope and remind myself there's always fan fiction until the very last minute of it. **

**I think I got everyone in my review reply. If I didn't, I apologize and you can send me a PM calling me out if you'd like. **** Know that I do appreciate them sooooo much! I'm like a kid in a candy store. :) And Also, I just updated my profile so feel free to view that. **

**Just a disclaimer: I sort of glazed over the religious stuff, mainly because I haven't been to a christening in a long while and didn't want to get the facts wrong or offend anyone! **

**WHAT I OWN: Allergies. Well, those are owning me… WHAT I DON'T OWN: Gossip Girl**

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Blair dressed carefully for the christening, paying special addition to applying makeup to hide the darkened circles under her eyes. Her dress was modest, an appropriate navy number with a cardigan. After some debate, she had decided to wear a headband, but opted for a more demure one. Her headbands were her security blanket of sorts and she needed that sense of security today.

It had been more than a week since Chuck had shown up with baby pictures and she had confessed everything to Serena. Ten days to be exact. Things had been eerily quiet on the Chuck Bass front since he'd left her penthouse. The last Gossip Girl report featuring him was shortly after he'd left her penthouse and it showed him walking out of The City Bakery with a box of cookies. The only thing close to a Chuck Bass sighting since then had been a mention of The Empire on Perez Hilton in reference to a popular boy band staying there and the flock of screaming teenagers that had gathered outside until security had dismissed them.

She knew she shouldn't care about what Chuck was up to, but old habits die hard. She had accepted that it was a one step forward, two steps back kind of process in moving on from him. It would be easier now that things were in the open with Serena, or at least she hoped it would be now that she could be honest with her best friend.

The one thing she did know was that Chuck had been a frequent visitor of Queens in the last week. She had spent her fair time there as well, visiting her goddaughter, but her path had never crossed with Chuck's. She thought that was intentional, perhaps. It surprised her, really, that Chuck was investing so much time in Amelia, but then she learned that Chuck was the one footing the bill for the small gathering after Amelia's christening as his gift to her. Not to be outdone, she had purchased an incredibly expensive christening gown and more baby toys than one could find in FAO Schwartz alone. She wondered if it were terrible of her to question Chuck's motives behind being a devoted godfather, but then figured he was Chuck Bass and nothing he did was without motives.

She purposefully arrived at the church early, even before Dorota and Vanya and much to the protests of her mother and Cyrus who did not understand why their departure time was a full half hour earlier than it needed to be. It gave her time to talk herself up, brace for Chuck's arrival. She had to be on her best behavior around him today. She wouldn't allow a breakdown or angry outburst to ruin Amelia's christening as she had nearly ruined Dorota's wedding.

The town car Cyrus had sent to pick up Dorota and Vanya arrived and Blair momentarily abandoned her internal pep talk in favor of her goddaughter who had not just her parents and godparents, but Cyrus and Eleanor as well wrapped around her tiny finger. She wasted no time in wrangling the baby away from Dorota.

"Don't you look beautiful?" she cooed to Amelia. The baby was alert, her eyes gazing up at her. Blair couldn't stop the smile on her face if she wanted to. She adored the child. "Guess what? I'm going to officially become your godmother today." She smiled happily at the innocent face looking up at her, a white headband firmly in place. "And you're going to get lots and lots of presents, did you know that?"

"Miss Blair, today about more than that," Dorota reminded her, smiling fondly at the two girls she loved more than life.

"Yeah, God and all that," Blair said dismissively, adjusting the neckline of the baby's christening gown. Dorota shook her head. She was fully aware that Blair wasn't the most religious of beings and Chuck Bass was best friends with the devil, but she was also sure she couldn't find a better set of godparents for her child. Most people saw their flaws, but she saw them for what they were – two kids turned adults far too soon who were full of insecurities, searching for their places in the world, one with a penchant for daydreams that bordered on fairy tales, the other who guarded his heart so closely it may as well be a national security secret.

Blair was too wrapped up in talking with Dorota and Vanya to see Chuck's limo pull up to the church. She missed the delay between when Arthur opened the door and when Chuck pulled himself out of it. She missed him hesitate on the sidewalk before he walked up to their small group. She missed him slip on his mask to hide the emotions that were, for just a moment, written so plainly across his face.

"I have to warn you that I may not be allowed to cross the church threshold," he said as he joined them on the sidewalk. "My past indiscretions have left me a bit – tainted."

"An understatement," Blair said under her breath.

"We make sure church has fire extinguisher. Just in case chuck burst in flames when Chuck Bass enter," Vanya said with a grin. Chuck allowed one side of his mouth to quirk up to show his appreciation at Vanya's attempt to joke.

"All these beautiful women," Chuck commented. Blair fought the urge to glare at him. Her plan was to ignore him as thoroughly as possible. "Though I have to say, the one in white is stealing the spotlight." He reached for Amelia. Blair handed her over unwillingly, a bit in awe at how much more comfortable Chuck appeared with the baby now. "Hello, beautiful," he said to the baby. "You and your godmother make for a striking pair."

"Chuck…," Blair warned in a tone low enough for his ears only.

"An observation," he told Blair, Amelia still tucked in his arms. "Shall we go inside?" he addressed the group as a whole.

"Give me the baby first," Blair answered, taking Amelia back. "Wouldn't want her burned when you burst into flames at the sanctuary door."

"In that case, maybe Dorota should take her," Chuck retorted. Blair ignored him and led the way into the church, baby in her arms.

"No one in flames," Vanya commented from his position at the back of the group. No one replied.

Inside, Amelia was passed around from one set of arms to another as a small selection of family and friends gathered. Blair attached herself to Serena's side when she arrived, successfully avoiding Chuck. It wasn't hard to do – Serena had appointed herself as Blair's personal guard dog and Chuck didn't seem to have the balls to test her. Her association with Chuck was unavoidable, however, when the ceremony began.

"Miss Blair, you sit here with Mr. Chuck," Dorota said, motioning to a second row pew. Blair nodded, determined to only interact with Chuck as needed for the ceremony. Chuck and Vanya approached the pew at the same time as Blair.

"Ladies first," Chuck said, motioning to the pew. Blair slid in and assumed her prim and proper posture. Chuck sat beside her, close enough for his leg to brush against hers. Dorota gave Amelia to Chuck who settled her into the crook of his arm almost naturally. Blair tried to keep her focus in front of her, but the chemistry between her and Chuck was palpable. She knew he felt it. She could tell in the way he shifted about discreetly, fighting the urge to act on it. She tried to focus on what the priest was saying, but couldn't comprehend it, her mind full of Chuck's scent and Chuck's - Chuck. Amelia began to fuss and she sensed Chuck's panic. His comfort with the baby seemed to last only as long as she didn't cry.

"Here," Blair whispered, reaching for the baby. Her hand brushed Chuck's. She pretended the electricity that passed between them was merely static, not the connection they shared. It was as Amelia changed hands that she noticed it. The glint in Chuck's eye, the one that was always there, whether it was sparkling with love for her or gleaming in the spirit of a scheme, was gone.

It had been gone once before. That time, she had found him on the rooftop of Victrola, singing and drinking and waving a death wish before him. _'Whatever you want to do to yourself, please don't do that to me.'_ The words that had brought him off the edge and back to her rang through her thoughts. She didn't have the chance to ponder them though because she and Chuck were being called to the front. She stood with him and he allowed her walk just ahead of him.

As they stood before the priest, Amelia in Blair's arms, Chuck's jacket brushing against her bare arm, Blair barely registered the words and prayers being issued. For the first time since the night he had sold her out, she considered how he was doing. Or, to be more specific, how he was really doing. There were Gossip Girl reports of hookers and wild parties, boozing and dealers, but as she thought about it, she realized the only pictures that accompanied the drabbles were of call girls entering or exiting or wide shots of the parties in the bar. Chuck had never been in those photographs, not once. Before her, he had been the focal point of all of them. She knew Chuck too well. Something didn't add up.

They spoke their promises when the priest asked, repeated words and answered his questions, but Blair was barely present. She had always been able to read people. Her intuition had always been keen, always picked up on what others tried to hide. Dorota had once told her it was her greatest strength, but had followed it by a lecture on how she should be using it for good, not evil, and so Blair had tuned her out. Right now, her intuition was screaming at her that Chuck wasn't okay, that he was slipping away. She fought with herself as she held Amelia, trying to decide if she should confront him or let him suffer alone. He did deserve to suffer, but there was a nagging feeling in her stomach that said he had gone past suffering, somewhere deeper and darker with the demons she had hoped were long buried.

The priest asked them to hold the baby over the basin. Blair moved Amelia so she was laying along her arm, her head in Blair's hand. Chuck moved his hand under Blair's, Amelia comfortably cradled between them. Blair felt her heart tighten at his contact. She could feel the slightest tremble in his hand. Chuck Bass did not tremble. She chanced a glance at him. His dark eyes were focused fully on the priest, moving to Amelia as the priest poured water over the child's head and recited sacred words. Amelia cried at the contact and stole Blair's full attention for the time being. She coddled the baby as soon as she felt it was okay to pull her away from the basin. Chuck gently rubbed the baby's back briefly before clasping his hands in front of him for the remainder of the ceremony.

Nearly forty-five minutes later, as people mingled among themselves in the Church's reception hall and nibbled on the food provided, Blair coyly looked around for Chuck, her concern growing when she didn't spot him.

"How are you holding up?" came Serena's voice. "I know that had to be hard, standing up there with Chuck."

Blair turned towards her, but her eyes fell on Nate who was at her side.

"Nate, have you seen Chuck lately?" she wanted to know.

Nate shook his head. "Not since the ceremony ended, actually. Why?"

Blair frowned and scanned the room again, once more coming up empty.

"How is he doing?" she asked Nate. "Really doing too, not how he wants you to think he's doing. Assuming you've noticed."

Nate ignored Blair's dig at him. "He's… Well, I don't know," he admitted. "I haven't been staying at the penthouse lately. I haven't been there in like, two, three weeks, come to think of it. He said something about barring visitors so I probably couldn't get back in if I tried. Even though I technically still live there."

"Why do you care, Blair?" Serena asked. "He doesn't deserve for you to care after what he's done."

Blair sighed.

"I know," she confessed, glancing around once more. "But at the very least, he should be here. Amelia is his goddaughter after all."

"Chuck Bass a godfather. It's almost an oxymoron," Nate commented. Blair and Serena ignored him.

"I'm going to go look for him," Blair decided. "Maybe he went outside." She heard Serena call out for her, but she didn't turn around. She was acting on emotion alone, possibly a mistake but one she was going to afford herself to make. She wandered into the foyer of the church, eyes peeled for any sign of him. She glanced into the sanctuary, but wasn't surprised when he wasn't there. She checked the restrooms before spying a door that led outside to the church's small courtyard where a small playground stood. She peered through the glass door.

The sight nearly took her breath away. Chuck was sitting alone on swing, gazing off into the distance. Any wall he put up, any guard he placed in front of him, was gone in that moment. He looked utterly defeated. Before she could stop herself, she was out the door and walking towards him.

"Chuck," she said softly.

He turned to face her, walls already back up.

"Blair," he answered in a neutral tone. She knew his game. He was feeling her out, sizing up the mood she was in while simultaneously trying to figure out what she wanted before she spoke it. She had invented that game, after all.

"The party is inside," she said gently. "And the godparents are generally expected to be present."

"I just needed some air," he told her, looking away. Blair walked over to the swing beside him and surveyed it's level of cleanliness. Deciding it wouldn't ruin her dress, she lowered herself onto it. Chuck still didn't look at her.

"Chuck…," she started, unsure of what it was she wanted to say. Chuck closed his eyes, almost as if the sound of her saying his name pained him. "Chuck, are you… okay?" she finally settled on, thinking it probably sounded as pathetic to him as it did to her.

"Are you?" he countered. "You're the one with a sprained ankle and panic attacks." Blair raised an eyebrow.

"How did you know I had a panic attack?" she asked.

"Serena."

"Serena?" Blair repeated. "You talked to Serena since that day at my penthouse and escaped unscathed?"

"Define unscathed," Chuck muttered. "And seriously, are you okay?" He saw Blair nod out the corner of his eye, still not looking at her. If he did, he would give himself away.

"My ankle is fine though I probably shouldn't have worn heels today. And I'm okay after the panic attack too. Dorota brought Amelia over the next day and since it was nice out, we went to feed the ducks. That helped."

Ducks. For one wild second, Chuck considered buying Blair ducks. As many ducks as it would take to get her to forgive him and a pond big enough to hold them all. Then he realized the irrationality of that idea and returned to reality.

"You should probably head back inside," he said instead, surprising himself at sending her away. In truth, he just didn't know what to say to her. "Like you said, the godparents should be there. I'll be in in a minute."

Blair sighed. He was trying to get rid of her to avoid saying too much.

"Chuck, you're not okay," she said gently, answering her earlier question for him.

Chuck let out a short, spiteful laugh.

"No, Blair, I am not okay." There was no use in trying to hide it. She was the sole person who knew him.

"What's going on?"

Her voice was so sincere, so full of concern for him. It ripped at his heart. He didn't deserve it. He wasn't the one who had been lied to, fooled, and treated like a high class call girl. This whole scene shouldn't be happening. He should have been the one walking up to her, asking if she was okay, calling her out when she didn't answer. As each day passed with only his thoughts to keep him company, he was starting to realize just how much damage he had done to her. It truly was unforgiveable and he had accepted his sentence of misery as his penance.

"I'm alone," he told her with a casual shrug. "I'm alone with only my thoughts for company. And my thoughts… They are a dark place."

Goosebumps erupted on Blair's skin.

"Dark how?" she asked. Chuck could hear the fear in her voice.

"Look at what I've become, Blair," he said, never looking directly at her. "Look at what I'm capable of. In my quest to become my own man, I turned into my father. Every mannerism he had that I despised in him is alive and well in me. I'm destined for a love affair with whatever business I happen to own the deed to." He finally looked at her then. "I was foolish to think my love affair with you was my destiny. I should have known I would screw it up. I'm Chuck Bass, after all."

It was a perfect spring day out, but a chill set in around Blair that she couldn't shake. She was suddenly scared for Chuck. Scared for herself. As angry as she was at Chuck, she still loved him. And it was then that she realized she needed to be careful. If something happened to Chuck, especially if that something was at his own hand, she would never be able to forgive herself. But she couldn't get too close again either. She had to protect herself just as much as she needed to protect him. They had more than proven they weren't safe together. She had to do something though.

"Chuck, that night, on the roof of Victrola? Do you remember what I said?"

A sudden burning sensation flooded Chuck's throat. He had revisited that moment more times than Blair would ever know.

"'_Whatever you want to do to yourself, please don't do that to me,_'" he answered. "It's the only thing I remember from that night. Besides you holding onto me when I stepped off the ledge." There was something almost symbolic about the image his words brought into both of their heads.

"That still stands, Chuck," Blair told him. She couldn't stop herself from taking his hand. "I still couldn't bear it if something happened to you." Chuck squeezed her hand.

"I'm not a coward," he answered to reassure her that he wouldn't do anything on purpose, able to pick up her unvoiced fear because he knew her that well. "I was once – and I usually am when it matters – but I won't hurt you any more than I already have."

Blair searched for something to say. Chuck beat her to it.

"The first time I saw you, you were on a swing set."

Blair looked at him.

"No, it was at Nate's sixth birthday party," she reminded him. "It was Ninja Turtle theme if I remember correctly. He made everyone where those stupid masks."

"You threw a tantrum because they didn't have a pink one," Chuck remembered with just a hint of a grin at the stamping off feet Blair had done when a fearful Dorota had told her they only had four colors, none of which were pink.

"You wore a purple one," Blair replied, her voice full of fake contempt. Chuck's grin grew just a little.

"I was stylish even then," he commented. "But Blair, that was the first time you saw me. It wasn't the first time I had ever seen you. My nanny took me to one of the playgrounds in Central Park, hoping I'd burn off some energy and stop torturing her. I kept making her take me to different playgrounds around the park, more because I enjoyed how she huffed a little more about it each time I informed her I wanted to go to a new one. Then we went to that western one…"

"With the water canals," Blair remembered with a smile. "Dorota used to take me there in the summers so I could play in the water sprays."

"You weren't playing in them that day. It was spring, but it was still too chilly for playing in the water. You were on a swing, wearing this really frilly, really pink dress with a matching headband. The bow was obnoxiously big, by the way, just like that one you wore the day I showed you Victrola for the first time." Blair smiled a little in spite of herself. She did wear some rather obnoxious headbands from time to time, but she loved them all. "You were laughing and ordering Dorota to push you higher. Not telling or asking – ordering. And that's what drew me to you. You were so sure of yourself, even then. And there I was, six years old and thinking you were the most beautiful girl I had ever seen even if six year old boys were supposed to despise six year old girls."

"Did you say anything to me?" Blair asked, trying to remember. Chuck shook his head.

"I just watched," he said. "And then, that weekend you walked into Nate's birthday party. I thought I had an in. My best friend knew the girl in the too pink dress. But then you walked right up to Nate and kissed him on the cheek. He laughed and asked if he could show you his collection of toy sailboats or some other equally lame trinket. You went with him and I resigned myself then to knowing you had a thing for my best friend and that as long as he liked you, I would let him have you because he was the only friend I had." Blair looked down at their hands, still intertwined, and wondered how they had gotten so far away from the innocent six year olds they once were. Or as innocent as she and Chuck had ever been, anyway. She also felt a pang of sadness at the mention of Chuck's lonely childhood. Her's hadn't been perfect, but it hadn't been lonely.

"Blair! Chuck! Dorota is looking for you!" Nate called out the back door, interrupting their moment. He brought them back to reality and their hands fell away, both letting go at the same time.

"We should go in," Blair said, standing. Chuck only nodded in agreement stood as well, following her back to the door. Chuck suddenly grabbed her hand to stop her. She turned to him, almost apprehensive of what he was going to say.

"Blair, I love you," he said. It came out almost desperate, as though he needed to say it in order to keep breathing. "I always have and I'm more convinced than ever that I always will." He hesitated and looked down at the ground before looking back up at her. "I just needed you to know that."

Blair studied him for a long moment. She found she couldn't repeat the sentiment. Not because it wasn't true, but because she couldn't muster up the courage to let him know she still felt the same way. If she told him she loved him too, her resolve to fix herself would be gone in the time it took him to move in to kiss her. She couldn't be with Chuck or anyone else until she was happy with the person Blair Waldorf was again.

Chuck sighed softly as he let his hand fall from hers once more. He opened the door for her.

"After you," he muttered. He slipped on his mask once more and followed her, trying to push aside his growing fears that he had lost Blair Waldorf's love forever.

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**Let's bring Lily back, shall we?**


	9. Chapter 9

**My latest obsession? The stats page when I log into my FF account. To see how many people are reading this story is amazing. And to see how many COUNTRIES they come from? WOW. I mean, someone from Bangladesh is reading this story. How cool is that? Not to mention alllllll the other countries. It's really amazing. Like, REALLY amazing! **

**And WOW again! More than 100 people have reviewed my story! I am just blown away. I've replied to everyone now – I think – and I just cannot begin to say thank you enough. But thank you. **

**THINGS I OWN: A coffee pot that is my best friend. THINGS I DON'T OWN: Gossip Girl**

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He was watching _Sabrina_.

That was what his life had come to. He spent every day, from the time the sun was high enough in the sky to be considered appropriate for the work day to begin until it was low on the New York horizon and his staff was fed up with him, immersed in numbers and budgets and marketing plans. Then he returned to his lonely penthouse, turned on the TV, and went to work on a bottle of scotch. Tonight, he was watching _Sabrina_ on a classic movie channel.

_Breakfast at Tiffany's_ had always been Blair's favorite, but he secretly preferred _Sabrina_ whenever he was forced into an Audrey Hepburn marathon. He could identify with Linus, the guy who fell for the girl in love with his brother. He was Linus. He was Linus and Nate was David and while he had made like Linus and won the girl once, he had lost her again. He could bet if _Sabrina_ had a sequel, it wouldn't have happened like that.

He took a long swing from the scotch that no longer burned his throat. Sabrina had just returned from Paris and was causing a stir. Blair loved Paris, he thought. If she ever took him back, he would take her there, let her do whatever she wanted, go wherever she wanted them to go. He would even take those cheesy pictures of the pair of them kissing with the Eiffel Tower in the background if she wanted to. Maybe they could go for the holidays, visit her father while they were in France. She always was, and forever would be, a daddy's girl.

The ding of the elevator drew him out of his rambling thoughts. He knew after Nate's materialization not to expect it to be Blair. He was only mildly surprised to see Lily waltz into his penthouse, this time in a gray suit, a white scarf hiding her hair loss, less blond hairs visible than before.

"Charles," she started, looking around the penthouse, "you'll be happy to know your security people are doing their job. They have the penthouse elevator locked down like Fort Knox. They are, however, no match for me."

"Clearly," Chuck answered. He drained what was left of his glass of scotch.

"I had to call Perkins and tell him I wanted to talk business before they finally let me up here. Which leads me to ask you – why the self-isolation tactics?"

"I was tired of my privacy being invaded by your daughter and her boyfriend," Chuck replied. "Too much – blond."

Lily sighed and sat down on the couch beside Chuck.

"Charles, I want to talk to you," she started. She had learned long ago it was best to be direct with him. Rip of the Band-Aid so to speak.

"About business, I hope," Chuck interrupted. "I've bought up enough shares of Bass Industries to give me a controlling interest once I acquire yours. I'm hoping you're here to tell me that will be done the easy way."

"Business is on the agenda, yes, but there are other things we're going to discuss first."

"I'm not interested," Chuck answered. He stood and made his way to the bar. "I suppose alcohol doesn't mix with your meds, but I can have room service bring up whatever you'd like."

"I'm fine," Lily said with a wave of her hand. "Though I will be requesting they bring you some appropriate food and drink as it appears you have none that isn't 80 proof." Chuck returned to his seat and placed his new glass of scotch on the table in front of him. Lily reached for it and pushed it aside, out of Chuck's reach. Chuck looked at her and raised his eyebrow. "You're still relatively sober," she explained. "And we're going to have this conversation before you alter your mental state any further."

Chuck sighed. "What do you want, Lily?"

"Someone needs to straighten you out and it looks like it's going to have to be me," she informed him in a rather commandeering tone.

Chuck snorted. "I'm far past that, Lily. Have been since I was thirteen."

"Then I'll be brief." Lily pulled a well-worn leather bound book from her bag and rested it on her lap. "First of all, we're going to start with what you did to Blair."

Chuck's head snapped up. He had hoped Lily hadn't figured it out, that she hadn't put two and two together during the argument with Serena she and Humphrey had been privy to.

"You – know?"

"It took Rufus and me a while, but we pieced together the overall picture. The mention of '_Indecent Proposal'_ and 'Jack' in the same sentence spelled out a lot. Once we figured out it was a hotel and not a million dollars at stake it all fell into place." Chuck's head fell in shame. "What, Charles, were you thinking?"

It was the first time anyone, even himself, had asked him that question. He found he didn't have an answer. Not a clear one anyway. There had been a burning desire to get back what was taken from him and a blind rage leading him forward. He wondered now if he had ever actually stopped to think. Surely if he had, he would have realized what he was about to do, not just to Blair but to himself as well.

"I don't think I was thinking," he answered honestly, deciding there was no reason not to be truthful if Lily already knew what he'd done. "I just wanted my hotel back."

"At the cost of the one thing you couldn't replace with all your billions of dollars?" Lily asked. Chuck closed his eyes.

"It happened so fast. One minute Blair and I were okay. Then it was the anniversary of my father's death. I had a hard time dealing with it. I saw a woman at his grave and there was a locket. Everything said she was my mother. I had spent my entire life blaming myself for something that never happened and for a few days, I thought I was going to finally have a parent that gave a damn. And the next thing I know, I'm being forced to give up my hotel, getting kicked out of my penthouse, Jack is taking it over, the woman I thought was my mother was behind it all… It just happened so fast. I didn't have time to think."

Lily was a bit confused as he rambled about his mother, but she let it slide and would ask for some clarification later. She had been largely absent when whatever it was that happened with this mother figure of his had taken place and she was curious, but there were more important things to contend with right now.

"And what have you done to set this right?" Lily wanted to know. It clicked then, just like the proverbial light bulb lighting up when someone had an idea on a cartoon. "That's why you want to sell The Empire."

"Getting rid of this place is the only way I can move forward," Chuck answered, not bothering to deny it. "There are too many awful memories here. If I have any chance – any chance at all – of getting Blair back, I can't have this place. It's been trouble since the moment I bought it."

"I do have to say I didn't understand your reasoning behind getting rid of the hotel until now. I'm not sure if I support it or not, but I do understand where you're coming from," Lily said.

"Good. Now you can sell me your shares, I can put the hotel on the market, and take over Bass Industries by the end of the week," Chuck said in an effort to redirect the conversation from the dangerous waters they were wading into.

"Business later," Lily reminded him. "Charles, I'm disappointed."

There. Those were the words he had hoped to never hear again. His head fell even lower in shame. His father had certainly told him he was a disappointment enough times. Nate had even said it in passing, whether he realized it or not, when he would poke fun at Chuck for his lifestyle. He got a lot of those jokes from his school acquaintances but it didn't hurt as much as it did from them because unlike them, Nate was virtually perfect, his only vices mild pot and Serena van der Woodsen and he hid those well. Hearing Lily say it now – the only thing that could hurt him more was if Blair muttered the words.

"I sit here, and I look at you and it breaks my heart that you don't realize what is right there in front of you," Lily continued. "You truly do fail to see it and I blame a very large part of that on your father."

Chuck looked at her.

"What, exactly, do I have?" he wanted to know. "I've never had parents. Whether my mother died during child birth or disappeared shortly after, she wasn't here. My father never wanted me. Nate is the only person I have ever considered a friend and he's not here. Blair…," he trailed off, not feeling the need to finish his sentence on Blair. "So what, Lily, is it that I'm missing? Certainly not this hotel."

Lily reached over and grabbed Chuck's hand. He tried to pull it away, but she held firm, stronger than he thought she would be in her condition.

"What about me?" she asked. "I didn't adopt you just to please your father. If you would just let me in, you would see that. Serena and Eric – especially Eric – care greatly for you, even if Serena is upset with you right now. Nate has been your best friend your entire life. That doesn't just go away. Look at Blair and Serena. They hate each other at least twice a year and always find their way back to one another. You have Dorota and Vanya. They made you godfather of their child, Charles. Do you really think they would bestow such an honor on someone they didn't care for? Even Rufus cares for you, though I'm sure you would never allow him within an arms' length."

It was the name she didn't mention that meant more than all the names she did put together.

"I don't have Blair," he said. "And she's the one that matters."

Lily sighed.

"No, you don't have Blair," she agreed. "If you play your cards right, maybe you will in the future. And maybe then you will realize that the girl loves you, Charles. You. Not your bank account or your hotel or whatever empire you're trying to create to spite your father. She loves you. That is why she isn't here now."

"She isn't here because I traded her for a hotel," Chuck spat, standing up.

"You traded her the way you did because you failed to realize she would be happy with you regardless of whether or not you have a chain of hotels to your name. I know Blair well. She would have done anything for you if you had just asked her to. And if you would have confided in her – and then listened to her - she probably would have convinced you the hotel wasn't worth this," Lily said, spreading her arms to indicate the current state Chuck was living in.

Chuck closed his eyes again. Unknowingly, Lily had repeated Blair's words from that night almost verbatim. They hurt more now than they had then, the truth behind them becoming clearer. Again, Chuck found he had no argument. Blair was always there for him, always trying to help him, even when he was pushing her away. Lily was right. If he had been honest with Blair, thought things through, he would most likely still have her, whether he had the hotel or not.

"I didn't come here to talk to you about Blair, however. At least not directly though what I'm about to say relates to her," Lily said.

"Lily, I've had enough of this feelings talk. Either skip to the business section of this meeting's agenda or leave." Chuck felt bad as soon as the words left his mouth. He didn't want Lily to leave. She was the only person who knew what he'd done that was seemingly still talking to him. He was relieved to see that she didn't seem too deterred.

"As I said earlier, I place a large part of the blame for your actions on your father. He was trying to do better towards the end of his life, but unfortunately, he was about 18 years too late."

"My father never wanted me. He made that clear every day. You saw it as well as I did, Lily. He kicked me out of the Palace as soon as he thought I was up to no good, remember? He always thought I was weak, a failure. The only reason he kept me around was to ensure an heir."

"I'm not going to deny that Bart Bass was a poor father. But Charles, he brought you home from the hospital."

Chuck turned to face Lily.

"What else was he supposed to do? Leave the child all of Manhattan knew his wife was carrying at the hospital simply because she died or whatever she did? Bart was a proud man. He wouldn't let society have that sort of leverage over him. He wouldn't want to be known as the man who abandoned his son. He cared too much about his image."

Lily sighed, wishing it were easier to talk to him.

"Your father was devastated when your mother passed away," she began. "He loved your mother wholly. Even after we were married, I firmly believe she was the only woman he ever truly loved, much like you with Blair…"

"Don't compare my father and mother to Blair and I," he said through gritted teeth. "I may be the second coming of the heartless bastard, but Blair is nothing like my mother. She would never willingly leave her child or trick them out of a hotel."

"I'm not privy to the whole story concerning this mystery woman at Bart's grave, but I can assure you the woman who showed up here claiming to be your mother was not. Your mother struggled with high blood pressure throughout her pregnancy with you. She also had a pre-existing heart condition. She did die that day, Charles. I'm sure of it."

Chuck just shook his head. He wasn't sure of anything anymore.

"Why are we talking about this, Lily?" he asked. "What does my dead father and maybe dead mother have to do with Blair and my business dealings?"

"Everything," Lily answered simply. She picked up the book that had laid forgotten in her lap. "I've been wanting to give you this for a while now but the time has never seemed right. With your recent actions as well as my illness, it seems now is the time." She offered the book to Chuck. He took it from her and examined it. It was an old, leather-bound journal from the looks of it. He opened the cover.

_Bartholomew Bass, April 1991_

Chuck frowned and flipped through a few more pages. He recognized his father's scrawl on each of them.

"Is this… A journal?" he asked.

"Yes. I found them when I was cleaning out your father's closet in our room before Rufus moved in. There are more of them. An entire box. Say the word and I'll have them delivered."

"Why would I want to read about my father's disappointments in me after his death?" Chuck wanted to know. "It took him dying to finally get away from them."

"Because, Charles, I think you – and nearly everyone who met the man – had the wrong idea about him. Or rather, they had the idea he wanted them to have. I think if you read these, you will learn a lot about yourself."

Chuck wasn't convinced. He closed the book and dropped it on the coffee table.

"I'm still waiting for the business portion of this meeting," he said.

"Why yes, I suppose we should get that out of the way," Lily relented. There was more than once reason she had been putting it off. Not only did she want to speak with Chuck about his actions, the business talk they would be having was contingent on something she wasn't particularly looking forward to.

Chuck nodded his agreement and sat down on the sofa once more. "What's your price?" he asked. "I'll have you a check first thing in the morning. Sooner if you would prefer."

"I'm not selling," Lily said, finality in her voice.

"Then I'll do this the hard way," Chuck replied. "I may not have learned much from my father, but I know how to mount a hostile takeover when I have to."

"There will also be no hostile takeover. You will get your shares and sooner than you think. I'm sick Charles."

"And you're going to get better." It registered with Lily how child-like Chuck sounded then. It was as if it were the most obvious thing in the world for him to state that she would get well from the cancer attacking her body just as easily as she could recover from a common cold.

"Charles, I'm not," she said gently, putting a hand on his knee. "My days are numbered. I've accepted that reality and I've spent some time getting my affairs in order. That includes the future of Bass Industries."

Chuck shook his head vehemently. He didn't want to hear her talking like this. "You can't think like that, Lily. You have to fight. You can't just give up."

"I did fight. The first time I fought and I got better. I'm still fighting, but the cancer is too far gone this time. Nothing, not experimental drugs or homeopathic treatments, is going to save me. I've accepted that. Rufus, of course, is convinced that William is up to no good and Serena and Eric are still hoping for the best, but I know what is happening to me. I see the scans and the tests results. These treatments are only for comfort. They're prolonging the time I have with my family, but they aren't saving me. They're giving me time to make sure my family is taken care of."

"There has to be something you're missing," Chuck insisted. "Some other experimental treatment or a foreign remedy…"

Lily squeezed Chuck's knee. "There's nothing," she said, her voice so resolute that Chuck felt himself believing her against his will. He felt a burning sensation in his eyes, but refused to let the tears threatening them to fall.

"Lily…" He didn't know what to say. It seemed he was, once again, going to face a detrimental loss in the near future. When would it end?

"I know it's going to be hard," Lily said gently. "But I want to leave this placing knowing my family – and that includes you – are taken care of and that they know I love them. Rufus and William with both be there for Serena and Eric. That is part of the reason I have William treating me, so he can establish a relationship with his children. Rufus will be there for you, if you let him. And when I said I had an end plan for Bass Industries at dinner the other night, that was meant for you."

Chuck could see where this was going now.

"You're leaving me Bass Industries."

Lily nodded. "I didn't agree with you cashing out. It has always been my intentions to turn my shares over to you. When you cashed out, I bought up enough shares in order to bequeath you the company that bears your name. You were left Bass Industries for a reason, Charles. And if you read these diaries of your father's, you will understand that."

"I'm still selling the hotel," Chuck said stubbornly, more or less because he had no idea what else to say.

Lily couldn't help but smile fondly. "By all means, get rid of this place. But promise me one thing."

Chuck looked at Lily, locking eyes with her. "Anything."

"Promise me you will fight for Blair."

Chuck frowned.

"I want to, Lily. But she's moving on. She falls a little more out of love with me every day."

Lily chuckled and shook her head.

"I beg to differ," she said simply. "I'm Serena's mother, remember? I know more about those two than they will ever know. She does still love you and always will. I can guarantee that. But she's afraid, a reasonable response to what has happened between the two of you. Fight for her. Make her see that you regret what you've done and that you love her, that she can trust you again. And even more importantly, if and when you get her back, don't ever take her for granted again. Make sure she knows, every single day, that you love her."

Chuck was unable to meet Lily's eyes. She made it all seem so simple, so easy. She made him believe he could fight for Blair and win her back. She gave him confidence. She squeezed his knee once more and stood up.

"I need to be getting home, but I want you to think about what I've said. And I want you to read your father's journals. I expect you at The Palace on Sunday for a family dinner at six o'clock sharp and I expect you to be there sober and well-rested."

Chuck nodded in agreement, at least to the dinner part. He understood he wasn't being asked. Lily and Blair were the only people he would ever take an order from. Lily moved to leave. He stood and followed her to the elevator.

"While we're at it, consider calling Nate and lifting your no visitors ban. Maybe call Eric as well. He could use a friend."

"I will," Chuck said, nodding again. And somehow, he knew he would. Lily pushed the elevator button.

"And one more thing," she said. Chuck waited. "The wild parties and strippers are doing you no favors in winning back Blair Waldorf."

"There are no wild parties or strippers," he admitted. "It's all a smokescreen. They party in the bar downstairs or in the suite I reserve for them, but I never see them. I work all day and then I come back here, by myself."

Lily put her hand on her chest, her heart breaking for the boy that in every way that mattered was her son. His emotional damage ran so deep and one of the few regrets she would leave this Earth with was knowing she hadn't had enough time to repair him. But she knew Blair could, if Chuck would only fight hard enough to get her back.

"It's going to be okay," she promised him. "Everything is." She stepped into the elevator.

"I wish I could believe that," Chuck replied.

"You can, if you let yourself," she answered. The door started to close. She put her hand out to stop it. "And Charles Bass? If I ever – ever – hear of you mixing sleeping pills with scotch again, or any other pill or drug with alcohol for that matter, I will personally see to it that you never do it again. Regardless of if I'm dead or alive at the time."

Chuck smiled ruefully as the elevator doors shut. He wandered back to his couch, not sure of how he felt. A lot of information had been thrown at him in Lily's short visit. He preferred, at least for the time being, not to entertain the prospect of what was apparently her pending death. There was too much loss in his life for that. Instead, he sipped on his scotch with the knowledge that he wouldn't chase it with sleeping pills, for at least that night, and let his mind go to Bass Industries and the things he would do when he was back at the helm, starting with re-decorating his father's office.

The journal Lily had brought over glared at him from the coffee table. He picked it up and for a while, he didn't open it. Finally, when his glass was empty and Linus and Sabrina had sailed off to Paris, he opened it to the first entry out of a morbid sense of curiosity.

_April 2, 1991_

_Bart Bass, writing in a journal. Never thought I'd see the day. But I have so much on my mind. Normally I would talk to Evelyn about it, but with her preeclampsia and heart condition, I don't want to put any more stress on her than is necessary. She nearly lost her mind just the other day over what shade of blue to paint the nursery. I can't imagine what would happen if I told her my fears of being a father… _

Chuck read the entry twice, drinking in how afraid his father, the man he had once seen as invincible, had been at the prospect of having a small child to call his own.

_April 5, 1991 _

_Tomorrow, I close the biggest deal of my life, second only to the day Evelyn agreed to marry me. I should be in my study, re-reading files and rehearsing what I'm going to say. Instead, I just came back from traipsing all over the city in search of the Ben & Jerry's she's been craving, Everything but The… What sort of name for a flavor is that, anyway? It has Heath bars in it and she never liked them until she became pregnant. It seems that the title of New York being the city that never sleeps does not apply to any store that sells Ben & Jerry's. I had to go all the way to Brooklyn to find a place that was open… _

Chuck grinned at the trivial entry. It seemed Bart had used pen and paper to rant about the goose chase of an errand he had ran for his pregnant wife. He could see himself doing something similar with Blair, willing going whatever it was she asked him to do before bitching about it in private. He continued to read the mostly trivial entries, amused more than anything that his father even had a trivial side.

_May 10, 1991_

_Today is Evelyn's due date, but there's still no baby. We've decided to name him Charles. I wanted his middle name to be Richard – Charles Richard Bass sounds like a fine name to me – but she insists that his middle name be Bartholomew. I'll have to apologize in the future for saddling the boy with such a name. It will take him an eternity to learn how to spell it. _

_Evelyn is resting right now, sleeping comfortable. Everyone says I should sleep now while I can because it will be a commodity once the baby is here, but sleep won't come. I worry about her. This pregnancy has been hard on her and the preeclampsia is barely under control. They start talking all of these medical terms I don't understand, like the difference between preeclampsia and eclampsia and I feel so frustrated and confused. They want to go ahead and induce labor, take the baby, but she insists on letting him come on his own time. They also want to do a C-Section. They say that would be easier on her than labor. But again, she insists on things being natural. What can I do to convince her otherwise? I'm terrified of losing her… _

Chuck's eyes started flooding with unshed tears as he read the next several entries, which came almost daily, as Bart wrote of his fears and how his mother's condition seemed to be deteriorating while her resolve grew still stronger. It was the entry on his birthday, about halfway through the journal, that brought the tears over the edge.

_May 19, 1991_

_She's in labor. In a matter of time, I'll have a son. She's going to have a C-Section. They're prepping her now and it's probably odd that I'm sitting in a waiting room, writing in a journal, but they won't allow me in there right now. Her blood pressure is extremely high and they're worried about her heart. It wasn't strong to begin with and pregnancy wasn't advised. I keep asking for explanations, but everyone is so hurried. The baby is okay though, they say. A bit small, but okay, as long as they get him out soon. I'm terrified of losing her. She made me promise that I would choose the baby over her if it came to that. I pray it doesn't. How can one choose between the love of their life and their child? I will have to choose the child. She would never forgive me if I didn't. But how can I live without her? _

The entry ended there. Chuck's tears fell freely. There was more to read, volumes more to read according to Lily, but he could only focus on one fact. Once upon a time, his father had truly wanted him. In the next entries, he knew, he may even find that his father had chosen him. But for tonight, he wasn't sure if he could stand to read more. He stood and walked over to the window with Blair's favorite view

He needed her right now. He needed her there, reading the diary with him and comforting him. He played with the idea of calling her, begging her to come and just sit with him, tell her they didn't have to talk or touch, as long he knew she was there. But his pride was too great. He wouldn't put this on Blair on top of everything else he had put her through. His eyes fell on a bottle of scotch. Johnnie Walker Blue. He picked up his phone and speed dialed one of the few numbers as familiar to him as Blair's.

"Hello?"

"I need some help with Johnnie Walker Blue," he said hurriedly, as though if he took his time, the words wouldn't come out.

There was silence on the line for a moment.

"I'm on my way."

He hung up and dialed another number.

"Nathanial Archibald is on his way here. Give him the new access card to my penthouse and add his name to my visitors list. Keep Blair Waldorf on it and add Lily Humphrey as well."

He hung up the phone again and poured two glasses of scotch. He had promised Lily he would call Nate and he had. He had promised Lily he wouldn't chase his scotch with sleeping pills and tonight at least, he wouldn't do that either. But he hadn't promised her he wouldn't drink the whole bottle in one sitting. With Nate there to drink with him, he might make it through two.

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**Yes, Lily is, really and truly, sick in my story. I'm sorry. It saddens me too. But it had to be done. Next update? Ducks... And heart pins... **


	10. Chapter 10

**When I posted the last chapter, I didn't check my phone for two and a half hours. Feel free to fall over from shock. I nearly did. That thing is practically glued to my hand. Two and a half hours of not so much as glancing at the it is unprecedented. When I did pick it up, I already had ELEVEN review notifications, not counting all those that came in later. I keep saying it, but I seriously can't believe that many people read this story. It's astounding. I really cannot say thank you enough times. You all are seriously amazing. **

**And trust me, I'm quite sorry that I've made Lily sick. I really do love her, promise. But there's this scene coming up in future updates and… well, I'll stop there. **

**THINGS I OWN: Twice as many clothes as I moved into my dorm room with. Sorry about that, dad, but they did all fit in the car in the end, didn't they? THINGS I DON'T OWN: Gossip Girl**

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"Miss Blair, we feed ducks lot lately," Dorota said, breaking the comfortable silence she and Blair had settled into. Amelia was sound asleep in her stroller, not a care in the world, a light baby blanket thrown over the hood of the stroller to keep the sunlight off of her. "Is this about Mr. Chuck?"

"Why, Dorota, would you think it has to do with Mr. Chuck?" Blair asked in a clipped tone. "I have finals coming up. I'm going to Columbia in the fall. I'm searching for an apartment. I've got a lot of stress on me." Blair dutifully did not look directly at Dorota. She had thought more than once that Dorota had superhuman powers. She had always been able to call Blair out when she denied her the truth.

"More like because Miss Blair still heartbroken," Dorota muttered.

"I am not," Blair said in the haughtiest voice she could muster, given that the statement was more or less true. "I'm moving on. Columbia, remember? Moving on."

"Columbia good news, indeed. Make for good weekend after get email. But you still love Mr. Chuck, Miss Blair. Dorota just want you happy and it make me sad that you not happy."

"I'm happy," Blair insisted. Even she could hear the lie in her voice.

"Are you, Miss Blair?" Dorota looked at her knowingly.

"I want to be," she finally confessed. "I just.. I guess I don't know how to be. At least not without Chuck. I shouldn't need Chuck to be happy though, should I?"

Dorota shook her head no. "You no need man to be happy, Miss Blair. But Mr. Chuck not just man. Mr. Chuck love of your life."

Blair crumbled up another piece of bread and tossed the pieces towards the duck pond. She had been thinking a lot about Chuck since the christening ceremony. That was Sunday. It was now Friday afternoon and she couldn't shake her thoughts about him. She had tried to start studying for her upcoming finals. She had re-organized her tiny dorm room. Then she had decided to just pack the place up since she never stayed there anyway. She had read a book, watched an entire season of Friends, done anything and everything she could to occupy herself, and yet he always cropped up in the recesses of her thoughts.

Her indignation at him was thawing out, whether she wanted it to or not. She was still hurt, still absolutely devastated, but her anger at him was ebbing. She could see the toll this was taking on him and even if she did her damnedest to hide it, she knew she could never turn her back on the people she cared about when they were hurting, regardless of what they had done to her. Her friendship with Serena was proof enough of that. It was thinking out a metaphorical plan of attack that would help him and keep her at a safe distance that was proving difficult. She couldn't just go to him and yet she couldn't stay away either.

"What did you think of the apartment we looked at today?" Blair asked, changing the subject.

"It good apartment," Dorota nodded in agreement. "Maybe not best but still good. Better than NYU dorm on any account."

"I'll keep looking," Blair said with a sigh. "Maybe Nate will know of something."

"Mr. Chuck could find something," Dorota chanced. "He know real estate." It had always impressed her that Chuck was so business savvy with just a high school diploma, one largely bought on name alone as she doubted wholeheartedly that Chuck had studied much of anything – aside from female anatomy and mixology – during his time as a student.

"Mr. Chuck has his hands full with his precious hotel," Blair snapped. "I'll find my own place." She was back to her self-righteous persona now, nose turned up slightly, posture erect.

"You seem jealous of Mr. Chuck's hotel," Dorota commented, putting aside the section of newspaper she had been reading and picking up another.

"Jealous isn't the word for it," Blair retorted. "To be frank, the place disgusts me." Dorota knew not to press her any further on the subject.

She hadn't set foot on even the same block as The Empire since the night Jack had thrown her out and she had no plans to head there anytime soon. Every good memory – every kiss, every 'I love you,' every time they had made love, every everything – they had shared there was instantly replaced by those few minutes in Jack's presence. She knew she still had a collection of clothes and shoes, jewelry and makeup, and other knick knacks there, but it was nothing she couldn't replace. As much as she fully believed a good Valentino should never go to ruin, she was content to let Chuck do whatever he deemed necessary with them, if he hadn't already.

It would be a lie if she said she hadn't thought about the logistics of what would happen to the hotel if she somehow found her way back to Chuck. She wouldn't make him get rid of it, but she didn't think she would be able to set foot in there again. Everything – the couch, the bar, all of it – would remind her of what had happened there. She doubted even redecorating would take the images away. A gasp from Dorota brought her out of her thoughts.

"I don't believe it!" she exclaimed. "This a sign, Miss Blair!"

"What's a sign?" Blair asked. She snatched the newspaper out of her hands to see what all the fuss was about. It was her turn to gasp.

"Chuck is selling the hotel?" she asked, more surprised than she had ever been. "What?"

"Selling hotel and taking over Bass Industries again," Dorota told her. Amelia started to fuss. Dorota used her foot to push the stroller back and forth gently, quieting the baby down almost instantly.

"He cashed out of Bass Industries," Blair argued. "He's not going back there. Now stop talking. I want to read this."

"Read it out loud," Dorota directed. "You take before I finish."

Blair's eyes scanned the article on the inside of the front page of the business section. She supposed it would have been on the front page if Wall Street wasn't such a volatile place these days. A grayscale picture of Chuck accompanied the article. He was dressed in one of his best suits. Blair recognized it as a photo taken not too long before Jack had returned to the Upper East Side.

"Charles Bartholomew Bass, son of the late Bartholomew Bass, shocked the business world less than a year ago when he announced his intentions to cash out his controlling share of Bass Industries, the multifaceted company left to him after his father's untimely death, to strike out on his own," Blair read out loud.

"With popular burlesque club Victrola already to his credit, Charles Bass set out to conquer the hospitality industry by acquiring The Empire Hotel. After a strategic remodel, the hotel has become one of the most sought after venues in the city, attracting elite from all over the world. In the current economy, it has defied all odds by thriving in it's opening year.

"In keeping with what is an apparent desire to rock the business world, Bass announced late Thursday night at a press conference held in a Bass Industries conference room that he plans to sell The Empire and return to the helm of Bass Industries. The announcement comes on the heels of the news that Bass's stepmother, Lily van der Woodsen Humphrey, has been diagnosed with terminal cancer. Humphrey holds a substantial amount of shares in Bass Industries which she is turning over to her stepson. Bass held on to a small percentage of his previous shares and recently purchased enough to gain a controlling interest with the acquisition of Humphrey's shares.

""My father left me Bass Industries when he passed away," Bass said in a short prepared statement to the press. "After striking out on my own successfully, I have decided it is time to return to my roots and run the company that bears my name. The Empire Hotel will be put on the market, effective immediately. My reasons for selling it are strictly personal and all questions related to the subject are off limits. Any inquires you have about Bass Industries and my return as CEO can be directed to the PR team of Bass Industries."

"Bass is an abnormality in the business world. Now nearing his twentieth birthday, Bass elected to forgo college in favor of stepping into the business limelight. A notorious playboy, Bass has show great promise…," Blair trailed off. The rest of the article was a sum of Chuck's history, something she knew far better than the _New York Times. _

"That all Mr. Chuck say about selling?" Dorota asked. "That press conference shorter than Lane Kiffin's."

Blair looked at her maid with a raised eyebrow and a confused look on her face.

"Lane who?" she asked.

"Lane Kiffin. He leave Tennessee to coach at USC and gave 43 second press conference and no more. People of Tennessee furious." Blair continued to look confused. "Vanya got Dorota into college football," Dorta explained with a shrug. "Now why you think Mr. Chuck sell hotel?"

Blair sighed and studied his picture in the paper, her maid never ceasing to amaze her.

"I have a guess," she said, leaving it at that. "We should probably go. I need to study for my econ final and work on my lit paper. The only thing I have to show for myself at NYU is straight A's and I won't sacrifice that for ducks."

"Dorota need to be getting Amelia home anyway," Dorota agreed. She stood and collected the baby's diaper bag. She sensed Blair was in deep thought and decided to let her be.

Blair wasn't quite sure what to think of Chuck's news. For one, it didn't make sense to her that Chuck was returning to Bass Industries. His whole reason for cashing out had been to prove his father wrong and create his own legacy. She suspected Lily had something to do with it as Lily was convinced she was dying and spent her days planning her family's life without her. Bass Industries was the least of Blair's concerns though. His position as re-instated CEO took a backseat in her mind to the fact that he was selling The Empire for 'personal reasons' that would not be discussed with the press. She was too jaded by him to think he could be selling it for her, but what other possibility was there?

She wondered if she should do something – call him or send him a text to… Congratulate him? Tell him he didn't need to sell the hotel? Ask him why he was selling it in the first place? She had no idea what the etiquette was for wanting to question your ex-boyfriend on what he was up to without seeming to care. There was also the annoying nagging of her conscious that told her she should check up on him after their talk at the christening, but to do it would be getting dangerously close to crossing the line she had drawn between them.

She gave her driver a polite smile as she slipped into the town car, Dorota following her with Amelia. The driver took care of the stroller before starting towards the Waldorf penthouse.

"Miss Blair, I still think it a sign," Dorota commented, drawing Blair out of her thoughts.

"Chuck selling the hotel? A sign of what? That his ambition is clawing at him fiercer than ever?"

"No. It a sign that you should talk to Mr. Chuck. He miss you, Miss Blair. He tell me so."

Blair studied Dorota. She knew Chuck visited Queens at least a couple times a week, always conveniently when she was in class. She hadn't considered that they could be talking about her or the demise of their relationship. She was certain Dorota didn't know what had transpired between them, otherwise her Polish made would have utilized her mob connections, godfather or not.

"What does Chuck say about me?" she demanded. "Tell me Dorota."

"Not much," Dorota said truthfully. "He ask about you. How you doing and if you need anything. He love you Miss Blair. I sure of that."

Blair didn't say anything else. Instead, she let her forehead rest against the car's cool window and watched the city go by, thoughts of economic equations and symbolism in Shakespeare mingling with images of Chuck Bass.

A few hours later, her econ book lay abandoned on the floor several feet away from her spot on the sofa. She had thrown it out of frustration earlier and cursed Chuck Bass in the process. The only reason she had taken the stupid class was so she could better understand Chuck's business dealings. She resented wasting an elective on the ridiculous class full of graphs and equations and terms she didn't understand. She could have taken a film studies class or another literature class instead. That, she figured, was what she got for trying to be a decent girlfriend to Chuck Bass.

The Shakespeare paper she was writing, however, was coming along nicely. She could do literature and love stories and tragedy. It let her escape into her fantasy world, where she and Chuck had never broke up, she had never been traded for a hotel, and her best friend's mother and the only mother figure Chuck had ever known wasn't dying. She was so immersed in the themes and symbolism found in _Romeo and Juliet_ that she didn't hear the elevator ding or the sound of the temporary maid scurrying through the house to greet their visitor.

Someone cleared their throat. She startled and turned towards the door, barely keeping her Mac from clattering to the floor.

"Chuck."

"Blair," he replied in a careful voice.

Blair took in his appearance. It was, perhaps, the most casual she had ever seen Chuck Bass dressed outside of his silk pajamas. Khaki dress pants, a blue dress shirt tucked in, darker blue bowtie, and suspenders hanging loose at his sides. She was certain the outfit was new – it was tailored to fit his recent weight loss and had the crisp look of a brand new outfit.

"What are you doing here?" she asked. It seemed like every conversation they had lately started off in a similar fashion.

"I stopped by your dorm first," he said by way of explanation. "It seems you've moved out."

"It's not like I stayed there very much anyway," Blair replied. "Besides, I'm going to Columbia in the fall. There was no reason to stay." She didn't tell him packing up her room had been purely for purposes of distraction. Chuck's face broke into a genuine grin.

"You got into Columbia?" he asked. "That's great, Blair."

Blair raised an eyebrow. "Like you didn't know," she said. "I'm sure whatever P.I. you've had tailing me gave you a full report on my transfer, most likely complete with my transcripts and a list of apartments I'm looking at."

Chuck shook his head. "Despite what you may believe, I haven't had a P.I. tailing you," he said honestly. "I figured I'd already invade your privacy enough." Blair felt a mild flutter in her heart or maybe it was in her stomach. "But congratulations. Columbia is a school actually worthy of you. Perhaps they can give you some sort of missionary credit for spending a year amongst the poorly dressed masses at NYU."

Despite her best efforts, a smiled played across Blair's lips. It was brief, but knowing he put it there made Chuck give his own small smile.

"I saw the article in the New York Times," she said, her voice now as careful as his had been upon his arrival. "Are congratulations in order?"

Chuck shrugged. "That remains to be seen," he said. "I think it's the right thing to do."

"You actually thought?" Blair asked, faking surprise.

Chuck snorted. "Surprising, isn't it? But yes, I did. Long and hard and thoroughly. Bit of a change of pace for me, isn't it?" They gazed at one another, unsaid feelings passing between them.

"Why are you selling the hotel?" she finally asked in a soft voice. Chuck glanced at the ground as though trying to summon his courage. He brought his eyes back up to meet hers.

"I think we both know the answer to that," he said in his own soft, un-Chuck-like voice. It was Blair's turn to look away. She was his personal reasons. Regardless of how jaded she was, she could no longer deny that revelation.

"You don't have to," she said softly. "I can't ask that of you."

"You didn't," Chuck said. "The decision is strictly mine. I don't know if returning to Bass Industries is the right thing to do, but this? This I'm sure about."

Blair knew there was no changing his mind. Truthfully, she didn't want to. It was a Chuck Bass-style grand gesture and whether they were together or not, she wouldn't deny that it meant a lot to her.

"Really, Chuck, why are you here?" she asked. "I'm trying to study. Finals are coming up and I'm determined to leave NYU with a perfect record." She watched Chuck take a deep breath as he reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet.

"I had an early dinner with Lily," he started, opening the wallet. "It was a business meeting, really. She was giving me some inside info on the board, particularly the two new members that have been appointed since I left. When we were finished, I opened up my wallet to pay. I took out a couple of bills out of the money fold and my fingers brushed against something unfamiliar." He produced her gold heart pin. Blair caught herself just in time to keep herself from gasping out loud.

She could remember when she had pinned it there. It was a few weeks after his big I love you too admission and Chuck had whisked her off to Nantucket for a long weekend. They had spent most of their time in bed or else lounging on the house's private beach, but one afternoon, it started raining. Chuck had fallen asleep facedown and spread eagle across their bed after a particularly passionate love making session.

As the rain fell steadily, she had curled up on the couch, wearing nothing but a silk robe and re-reading _Wuthering Heights_. Chuck's soft snores drifted out to the living room and she had smiled softly, finding them endearing instead of obnoxious. She had wandered into the bedroom and perched on the bed, watching him sleep for a minute. She had reached out and ran her hand through his hair a few times, admiring his beautiful features and the way he looked almost innocent, free of stress and completely at peace in his sleep.

She had spied his wallet laying on the nightstand, right next to his BlackBerry, and it had come to her. She had been carrying the pin around with her, sure she wanted Chuck to have it, but unsure of whether or not he would think it trivial. Chuck Bass wearing her heart on his sleeve was laughable, really. It was too cheesy for his taste. But his wallet… He always had it on him. If she pinned her heart in there, he would always have it with him. She didn't even have to tell him if she put it deep enough into the money fold, witness his amused face when she presented him with it. And it wasn't like he wore sweaters often. So she had pinned it into the corner crevice of his wallet and to her knowledge, he knew nothing of it until today.

"That's my pin," she said to him, wishing she had been able to think of something more intelligent to say.

"We both know this is so much more than a pin," Chuck said, taking a few steps closer to her. "This is your heart, Blair. You give it to the man you love so he will carry it around with him. Nate, Lord Marcus, they got to wear it on their sleeve. You knew better with me though. You know I rarely wear sweaters these days and you probably thought the gesture would amuse me rather than move me." Blair avoided looking directly at him, amazed as always at how he could see right through him.

"That's where you were wrong though, Blair. Secretly, I wanted this pin. I wanted to know I was the man who had your heart. When you didn't give it to me, I assumed it was because you were sure of my love for you. Nate cared deeply for you, but whether or not he was truly in love with you – or you with him – is up for debate. Lord Marcus, of course, was but a distraction from me. You gave them this heart to reassure yourself that they cared for you.

"So imagine my surprise when I found it in my wallet after a lobster dinner. To say it threw me would be an understatement. I spent some time by the pond at Central Park after I dropped Lily off, holding it in my hand and thinking about what it meant. Which reminds me. You were right about the ducks. Feeding them does help bring about a certain level of calmness."

Chuck took several more steps forward so he was within arms' length of Blair. She stood, unable to allow him to tower over her. He reached for her hand.

"Here," he said, with a hint of a quiver in his voice. She felt the cool metal against her palm and instinctively closed her fingers around it. "This is yours. For now, at least. I don't deserve it." Blair fought back the tears that threatened to fall. She noticed Chuck's eyes were glassy as well. She opened her hand and looked at the heart pin lying in it to give herself something to do. It was an antique, tarnished and even nicked. It was, in that moment, a perfect representative of the heart beating inside her chest.

"Chuck…," she whispered, not sure of what to say.

"But Blair, you should know something. I'm not giving you back your pin for good. One day, I promise you, I will deserve it again. I'm going to fight for you. I'm going to earn your forgiveness while proving that I can be a man worthy of your love. I'm going to show you that you can trust me again. But most importantly, I'm going to show you how sorry I am for what I've done to you."

Blair stood in shock. Chuck did not bear his feelings. He didn't speak from his heart or throw his emotions to the wind. His I love yous were always spoken when they were needed most – when she needed to hear it or when he needed to say it. He showed his feelings through his actions, by holding her close at night or by putting more passion into his kiss than she could stand. Now, he spoke with such conviction she couldn't help but believe him.

"I'm going to fight for you," he said again, his voice steady once more and his eyes no longer glassy. "And I will win."

"What makes you sure?" Blair asked. She couldn't stop herself. Chuck gave her his trademark smirk.

"I'm Chuck Bass," he said. "And you are Blair Waldorf." He leaned forward and kissed her cheek. "Congratulations on Columbia," he whispered in her ear before turning to leave.

"Chuck?" she called. He turned at the doorway. "When can I expect this fighting for me thing to start?" He gave her another famous Chuck Bass smirk.

"Yesterday," he said. "You think I made that personal reasons quote for anyone other than you?" His eyes brightened as another smile played across Blair's lips. "And Blair?" He nodded at her notebooks spread out on the table in front of her. "Don't spend your entire weekend studying."

Blair smiled in earnest when he walked out the door.

* * *

**The Lane Kiffin reference… I'm a Tennessee Volunteer through and through – a bleed orange, sing Rocky Top at the top of my lungs, pile into Neyland Stadium on Saturdays in my sundress and inappropriate shoes with my sorority sisters Tennessee Vol. We're a football school in the biggest of ways. Lane Kiffin was our coach and we all stood behind him. He stayed a whole one season, took the coaching job at USC, and literally gave a 43 second press conference and only a 43 second press conference to the good people of Tennessee. There was legit rioting. Mattresses burning, rather dirty anti-Kiffin signs made… But it's okay – we love our new coach. So if there are any USC fans out there, no hard feelings. You can have him. We'll keep Dooley. And any readers that support another SEC school? Don't worry – I won't trash talk your school on here. I save that for game day. **

**Next update… Econ studying. I loathed econ. Assuming I make it through fall semester with my record intact, it will go down as the only C on my college transcript. **


	11. Chapter 11

**Confession: I almost loved the season finale. I say almost because I couldn't fully love it without a Chuck and Blair reunion. I was all set to just loathe Chuck and found myself almost feeling for him, particularly when he took off to Prague and was walking around the streets with Blair's ring. I think my biggest issue was Nate in the last 10 or so minutes. Two girls? It's like he's trying to be Chuck 2.0. I'm going to wait until season 4 before I decide my final feelings on the episode. **

**This chapter is on the lighter side. It's needed, I think, after all the angst – which will be making a comeback quite soon. I haven't had a chance to reply to everyone's reviews yet, but I should get them out by tomorrow! I really do love all of you – you all are simply wonderful and your reviews make me smile. **** I believe I'm going to go work on a one-shot in response to the finale, just to make things right in my world of Gossip Girl. **

**THINGS I OWN: A homemade strawberry shortcake. Well, I ate it, but I owned it until it was gone. THINGS I DON'T OWN: Gossip Girl**

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Chuck ran through his mental checklist. A chocolate covered croissant was secured in the bag he held in his left hand. In his right, he held a grande low fat vanilla latte with extra whip. He had his courage and he had his determination. He repeated in his head that things were going to go well as he rode the elevator to the Waldorf penthouse in an attempt to try out being an optimist. Operation Win Blair Waldorf Back was in full swing, and this was the next step, though it may be a small one in the grand scheme of things.

The Waldorfs didn't have a maid on duty on Sundays and he wasn't expecting Blair to greet him, so when he arrived at his destination, he made straight for where he knew she would be – the media room. As he suspected, Blair was consumed in textbooks and notes, her laptop open in front of her, the librarian-style glasses she wouldn't dare wear in public perched on her nose. He smirked. He loved it when she dressed down. Or as down as Blair Waldorf ever was in three hundred dollar jeans and a Burberry shirt.

"I thought I told you not to spend your weekend studying," he said, announcing his arrival. Blair barely glanced at him.

"I have finals," she replied. "Studying is what people do when they have finals coming up."

"Fortunately for you, I know you well enough to know you did, in fact, spend your weekend studying and so I brought you study aides."

"Sex and a shot of tequila are not study aides," Blair retorted, eyes peeled on her work.

"Lucky for you, I've taken a sabbatical from the horizontal mambo and I prefer scotch." He held out the Starbucks and the bag from her favorite bakery. Blair reached for them immediately.

"If you weren't – you – I would kiss you right now," she informed him before taking a swig of her latte. "Perfect," she said, nearly sighing with contentment. "Since I'm not kissing you these days, you'll have to settle for a thank you. And for the record, a sabbatical is longer than the few hours that lapse between your morning hooker and afternoon whore."

Chuck grinned at her wit. "A thank you will do," he replied. He had a good dozen retorts that were more sexual in nature at the ready, but he bit them back. It was too soon to pull them out on Blair. He chose not to let her know he hadn't had sex since the last time they were together. He sensed his admittance to faking his recent partying would bring about an intense conversation and right now was not the time for one of those, not when Blair was strung out over schoolwork.

Blair clicked a few buttons on her computer with one hand while reaching into the bag for her croissant with the other. Chuck leaned over the back of the sofa and peered at her computer screen. There was a graph on it and she was moving around red and blue plotlines. He read the word problem above the graph.

"That's wrong," he told her a moment later. Blair glanced over her shoulder long enough to give him a dirty look before returning to her laptop.

"No it's not," she said, absolute certainty in her voice.

"Yes, Blair, it is," Chuck argued.

"No, it's not. I'll prove it." Blair hit the submit button on her computer and seconds later, her glaringly wrong results were displayed on the screen.

"I tried to tell you," Chuck said, standing up straight again. Blair shrieked and smacked the sofa in frustration.

"This stupid class can die a slow and painful death," she declared. "I hope the professor spills his McDonald's coffee on him cheap pleated pants on the way to administer the exam tomorrow morning."

Chuck walked around the sofa and picked up a notebook full of Blair's elegant penmanship. Flipping through it, he realized with a pang of guilt that he had no idea what classes Blair was taking or what she had taken in the fall. The only thing he knew about her life at NYU was that she hated it. He chalked it up to another failure as a boyfriend. He knew the stuff in the notebook in his hand though. He knew it well. Blair shrieked in frustration again.

"What's wrong?" he asked automatically.

"I can't get this problem right," she admitted, a pout forming on her face. "This is my third try. I'm going to get my first ever B in my entire life and my perfect record is going to be ruined."

"Because Bs are terrible," Chuck commented. "I got plenty of Bs in high school. Of course, a lot of them started off as Ds and Fs, but they were nothing a few well placed Benjamins couldn't correct."

"Bought Bs might be acceptable for the Chuck Basses of the world, but the Blair Waldorfs of the world don't accept less than perfect."

"Let me see the laptop," Chuck said, sitting down beside her and ignoring her jab at him. Blair eyed him.

"Because you would know the answer," she said. "You opted to forgo college in favor of real world experience, remember?"

"Which is exactly why I know the answer." He didn't wait for her reply. He took her laptop from her and started playing with the graph. Once he'd figured out what line represented what and how to move them around, he made a few adjustments and hit submit. The screen showed a flawless answer. "Simple aggregate supply and demand," he said, passing the laptop back to Blair. She looked from the screen to Chuck, somewhere between shocked that Chuck knew the answer and anger that he knew something she didn't.

"There's nothing simple about it," she informed him. "You just got lucky." She hit the continue button and a new problem came up. Chuck reached for a stack of papers that he gathered to be a study guide. He picked up a pen and started making corrections. "What are you doing?" Blair demanded, snatching the papers from him. "I need that!"

"Judging by the fact that it's a study guide, you need it to be right," Chuck replied. "I know this stuff, Blair. Let me help you study." This, he thought, was turning out even better than his original plan which was to drop off her latte and snack and leave her to her studying so as not to irritate her any further than he was sure she would be.

"That study guide is right," she insisted. "He put the answers online earlier. I'll prove it."

"By all means, Blair, prove me wrong," Chuck said, sitting back on the sofa, his hands clasped behind his head. He knew he was right. He watched contently as Blair compared her answers to the answer key. He grinned in satisfaction as Blair's frown deepened. He hid that grin quickly when she turned in his direction and threw the study guide at him.

"Why do you have to be right?" she asked. "And if you say 'because I'm Chuck Bass,' I'll kill you with my bare hands."

Chuck laughed and picked up the packet from where it had landed on his lap.

"I'm right because I do this stuff every day, sun up to sun down. Seriously, Blair. Let me help you."

Blair chewed on her lip. He did seem to know what he was talking about and she was desperate. It didn't hurt that he had brought her a latte and her favorite croissant when she had been in desperate need of a pick me up.

"Fine," Blair relented. "But there are rules."

"Of course there are," Chuck muttered.

"You stay arms length away from me. We only talk about economics. And if you break either rule, you leave."

"As you wish." He was, however, sure they would be getting closer than arms length. It was hard to share a book and a laptop when they were barely able to reach out and touch one another. Blair passed him her textbook and her study guide.

"Teach me," she directed, sitting back on the sofa, her notebook opened to a fresh sheet, a pencil in hand. Again, Chuck bit back retorts. He flipped through the study guide, trying to get a feel for what she needed to know.

"Okay. Let's start with the basics. What is economics?"

Blair glared at him.

"A pain in the ass subject not worthy of my time."

"Blair." She sighed.

"Economics is the study of decisions people make concerning their money. Or something like that."

They launched into Blair's study guide, Chuck almost as surprised as Blair as just how well he knew what he was talking about. As they worked, he had Blair do the accompanying problems on her laptop, feeling a little more jubilant each time she got an answer right. The shift in her mood was palpable as she went from convinced she was going to get her first ever B which would subsequently be the end of the world to genuinely understanding the material.

"Last one, Waldorf. Show me what you've got," Chuck said, passing the laptop back to Blair. Blair shot him a confident smile before focusing on the problem. She entered numbers, rearranged a couple of graphs, then hit submit. This time, her shriek was of pure joy. She hurled herself at Chuck and wrapped her arms around his neck. He was all too happy to wrap his arms around her.

"It's right!" she said happily. "Chuck, I think I can actually do this!"

Chuck smiled at Blair's happiness and brushed a stray piece of hair from her face.

"I know you can," he said matter-of-factly. Blair smiled at him, realizing how close she was, but not quite willing to pull away.

"Thank you," she said sincerely. "I would have broken into tears two hours ago with your help."

"If you really want to thank me, come to dinner with me," Chuck heard himself proposing. He waited almost nervously for her reply. "We'll go wherever you want. Just name the place."

Blair stayed where she was, arms still wrapped around Chuck's neck, his arms around her waist, holding her close to his side. She wanted to say no, but every ounce of her knew she was going to say yes.

"On one condition," she said.

"Name it."

"You let me pay. As a thank you for helping me."

Chuck shook his head. "You don't have to thank me, Blair. I was happy to do it."

"Chuck," Blair warned.

"Fine Blair. You can pay." He knew he would be able to change her mind before the check came. After all, she had already broken her own rule about them being arms length apart at all times.

"Good. We're getting sushi. Give me ten minutes to change." With that, Blair was gone. Chuck got comfortable on the sofa and pulled out his phone to make reservations at Blair's favorite sushi restaurant. Then he busied himself with checking his emails, fully aware that in Waldorf time, ten minutes was twenty on a good day, thirty on a normal one.

* * *

An hour later, Chuck was seated across from Blair, reveling in the feeling of doing something as simple as dining with her again. She chatted happily about Amelia and how they had spent time feeding the ducks a couple of days ago, going on about how it was hard to believe she was already nearly a month old and how she had already changed so much. He was content to just listen, the sound of her voice literally music to his ears.

Their waiter brought their sushi rolls. Blair crinkled her noise up at how much Wasbi Chuck used and Chuck pondered how she could eat eel as though it were chicken, their typical sushi dinner conversation.

"So how is Lily?" Blair asked him carefully when they were halfway through their meal. "I mean how is she really, not the sugarcoated 'she's going to be fine' I get from Serena or the 'we're hoping for the best' Humphrey likes to lay down."

Chuck stirred what was remaining of his soup.

"She's sick," he said bluntly. "Really sick. She's not going to make it, Blair. I know Serena and Eric and the Humphreys are hoping for a miracle, but the reality is, she's not going to make it. I had Dr. van der Woodsen checked out. He's legit. I had her meds checked over twice and second, third, and fourth opinions on her medical records. There's no hope for her, even if we want it to be."

Blair's eyes watered, but she didn't let the tears fall. Lily was connected to so many people she loved – Chuck, Serena, Eric. She even had affection for Dan, if only between barring their teeth at one another when he found his morals and tried to give them to her.

"How are you dealing with it?" she asked gently. "I know Lily means a lot to you."

Chuck sighed. "It's another loss," he said with a shrug. "I'm used to it by now. Or at least I should be."

Blair couldn't stop herself from reaching across the table and covering his large hand with her small one.

"No one should be use to loss," she said softly. "And you have suffered enough of it for a lifetime."

Chuck covered their hands with his other one. "And yet there are some losses that hurt more than others," he said, looking into Blair's eyes.

"Chuck," Blair sighed, not ready to delve any further into their relationship woes.

"So how is Eleanor these days?" he asked, changing the subject and sitting back in his chair, removing his hands from Blair's despite how much he would have been content to sit with her hand between his for hours to come.

"She's in Paris, of course," Blair answered. "Where else would she be?"

"We got the short end of the parenting stick," Chuck commented. As he'd hoped, Blair went off on a rant about her mother's latest failures as a parent – apparently she hadn't bothered to reply to any of Blair's texts, phone calls, or emails concerning Columbia while her father and Roman had sent her a giant bouquet of flowers – leaving Chuck to sit back, listen, and contemplate his own parents – the mother who had seemingly died at birth, the Bart Bass he had grown up with, the Bart Bass in the journal, the woman who had appeared and claimed to be his mother, and Lily, the one person who had been more like a parent than any of the others combined.

He managed to slip the waiter his credit card without Blair noticing.

* * *

A couple hours later, Chuck was in his trademark silk pajamas, his cheek still burning from where Blair had given him a chaste kiss after whispering thank you again and reprimanding him for paying for dinner. He settled on the sofa, his father's diary back in his hands. He opened it up to where he'd left off the night Lily had brought them. His birthday.

_May 19, 1991_

_She's gone. _

_The baby is fine. _

Chuck frowned. He was hoping there was more. An explanation or details, something. Disappointed, he continued on to the next entry.

_May 21, 1991_

_Today, I chose Evelyn's casket and brought Charles home from the hospital. Two milestones in my life that should have never taken place on the same day. The grief I feel for Evelyn is consuming. I'm not sure how I'm supposed to do this without her. She was the one with all the maternal instincts. My own parents did the best they could for Jack and I which wasn't much. I don't know how to be father. I just know the kid needs one. The nanny I've hired has already moved in, but I'm going to be as hands on as I can. _

_I suppose there will come a day when I need to tell Charles about what happened with his mother. Her heart couldn't take the stress of the c-section. She lived for a couple of hours. She got to hold Charles for a few minutes. I made sure to take several pictures. One day, when the pain is less, I'll have them developed. _

Chuck tapped the pages of the book absentmindedly, trying to think if he'd ever seen those photos. He didn't remember them. He wondered if they were amongst the things Lily had removed from his father's closet. He then wondered if Bart had ever developed them. He moved on to the next entry, this one months after the last one and more well-written compared to the previous entry with short, choppy sentences, a sign that Bart had been in a better frame of mind when he wrote it.

_October 31, 1991_

_It's Halloween and the nanny decided it was quite necessary to dress Charles up. She had him in a ridiculous knight costume, one that actually looked quite – cute – on him. _

Chuck snorted. His father actually used the word 'cute' to describe him – in a knight costume of all things.

_It made me think about this journal and it seemed appropriate to resume my aimless writings. I couldn't help but wonder what Evelyn would have dressed him in for his first Halloween. I'm sure she would have found something appropriate and fitting. That was her way. I think it's a bit counterproductive, of course, seeing as the boy is toothless and gets his food from a bottle, but I suppose in keeping with the spirit of tradition a costume was required. _

_Charles is a good baby, so says his nanny. I think he likes her more than me, but she's much more comfortable holding him and feeding him than I am. I try, but he cries and the nanny takes him and he settles down almost right away. I wonder if he considers the nanny his mother? Or maybe he senses that I miss his mother which upsets him? Babies are supposed to perceptive, aren't they? _

Chuck continued to read until late into night, immersed in stories about his childhood that he had never heard before. He had thought his father hadn't cared, that holidays and birthdays had only been marked because that was what was expected. But on the pages between Chuck's hands, in his father's writing, were stories of how he had taken the day off for Christmas to spend the day with his son. Bart had planned a huge first birthday for him, invited everyone. He had mentioned a photographer, but again, Chuck was certain he had never seen photos.

The day faded into the next one as Chuck read the last entry in the book, a trivial bit about a massive business deal Bart had closed though there was mention about him possibly walking soon. As he turned the lights down and went into his bedroom, his head was swimming, trying to make sense of his father and pinpoint the exact point where Bart Bass had gone from a seemingly caring father to the man he had grown up knowing. It had to be within the first couple years of his life. Otherwise, he hoped he would remember Bart being the father he had seemed to be in the diary.

Before he fell asleep, he reached for his phone and typed out a text message for Blair to read in the morning – 'Good luck. I believe in you.' He knew she would understand the deeper meaning behind it. As his eyes closed, he decided to call Lily the next day and get the rest of those diaries. He fell asleep that night without the help of sleeping pills and more sober than he had been since the night Blair whispered 'goodbye Chuck' in her building's foyer before walking away.


	12. Chapter 12

**I think I finally caught up on responding to reviews – I think. If I missed you, I apologize. There's just so many (insert ridiculous happy dance here that I have so many reviews for my story!) that I may have overlooked you on accident. So if you didn't get a reply and really want one, PM me and I'll tell you how wonderful you are. **** Also, to the few of you who left reviews, but don't have the PM function activated, THANK YOU for your reviews! Thank you once more to everyone who reads and reviews. I say it every time, but its truly, truly mind-blowing to see how many people read this story. **

**I've written a one-shot called 'Flight of Fight' in response to the finale if you're interested in reading it. I got a lot of positive response to it so I *may* turn it into a multi-chapter fic once I finish up this one. **

**THING I OWN: A plane ticket for my favorite city in the US which I'll be interning in all summer. THINGS I DON'T OWN: Gossip Girl**

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Blair played with Serena's hair as the blond rested her head in her best friend's lap. Their nails were freshly done, Blair's a bright shade of pink, Serena's lime green, colors they had chosen in a fit of whimsy. Their empty plates were stacked on top of one another on the coffee table, the large chicken Caesar salads prepared by Serena's cook devoured and a Sex and the City marathon was playing on TV. Their martinis, which Blair had insisted on making for them as apparently they couldn't watch Sex and the City without them, sat half empty on the end table next to the sofa. It was a throwback to their high school days when Nate would be off sailing with the Captain and Chuck was being – Chuck. Except now, Blair was the one keeping Serena company, the Captain was at large, Nate was with Serena, and Chuck was somewhere between the Chuck he used to be and the Chuck he had become.

"How are you doing?" Blair asked gently. It had been a rough day with Lily, her treatment making her so violently ill that they had kept her in the hospital. Blair had sat with Serena nearly the entire day, leaving only long enough to take the last final of her NYU career before rushing back. When Lily had demanded her children go home, Blair had gone with them and assumed her position as caregiver, making sure Eric and Jenny were accounted for, fed, and watered for the evening before turning her focus on Serena.

"I'm better now," Serena said. "This is helping. This feels almost normal. Normal is good."

"Good," Blair echoed. "Are you sure you're okay with Nate not being here? I'll go to the library and drag him back here if you want me to."

Serena chuckled at her friend's serious tone. She had no doubt that Blair would produce Nate within the hour if she asked for him. "I'm fine with it," she said, genuinely meaning it. "He's still got two finals to go. He needs to study. We're going to spend the weekend together."

"The offer still stands," Blair said. "I'm a Columbia student now. I have a right to access any room on campus. If Nate Archibald is what you want, Nate Archibald is what you'll get. Finals be damned."

Serena laughed again and rolled her eyes. "How did you do on your econ final?" she asked in an attempt to change the subject. On the screen, Charlotte attempted to become a Jew.

"I got an A," Blair said. Serena could hear the smile in her friend's voice without looking up to see it.

"And you were worried," she teased.

"I was," Blair insisted. "I probably wouldn't have gotten an A or even a B without Chuck. I mean, what kind of professor gives a cumulative exam anyway?"

"What did Chuck do? Buy you a grade?" Serena asked.

"No!" Blair scoffed. "Though, he would if I'd asked him to," she admitted. "But no, he stopped by late Sunday afternoon with a latte and a chocolate covered croissant while I was studying. I was having trouble with a problem and it turns out, Chuck is a bit of an economic genius."

Serena let out a short laugh. "The words 'Chuck' and 'genius' don't belong in the same sentence. Unless you're referring to the quickest way to drink a bottle of scotch in one sitting without passing out. That's about the only accomplishment he can claim as his own. Well, that and being the biggest douche bag in all of New York. At least until Tiger Woods or Jesse James comes to town."

"While I have to concede your point, I was just as surprised as you to find that Chuck actually does know his economics. Formulas, definitions, graphs, he knows all of it. It was actually kind of impressive. He helped me study for a few hours and without his help, I probably would have tried to seduce the professor in exchange for an A."

Serena sat up and eyed her best friend.

"You're spending time with him," she stated, ignoring the seduction comment, more or less because she knew Blair would do it if she were desperate enough. The Yale debacle was evidence of that. "After everything Chuck Bass did to you, you're spending time with him? And accepting gifts? Or in Chuck's case, bribes?"

Blair sighed. She understood Serena's point. If the situation was reversed and Serena was spending time with someone who had broken her so badly, she would have asked questions too. But the someone in question was Chuck Bass and she was Blair Waldorf and everything about them defied reason.

"I'm worried about him," Blair admitted, revealing to someone for the first time that she had some concerns about Chuck. "I noticed it at Amelia's christening. He's not okay, Serena. He's not dealing with things very well."

"Come on, B. He's bedded half of New York since you two broke up. He drinks enough that his liver has to be floating, and God only knows what kind of drugs he's ingested lately. That might not be the usual way to deal with problems, but that is the patent Chuck Bass way of dealing with things. Especially when they're of his own making."

"Has he bedded half of New York?" Blair countered. "Because I'm starting to doubt it." She couldn't quite question the drinking or drugs though. She did know Chuck Bass.

"You see the Gossip Girl blasts," Serena reminded her. "And the pictures that come with them."

"Serena, have you ever noticed that Chuck isn't ever actually in any of those pictures?" Blair asked. "All those pictures are of cheaply clad women walking in or out of the hotel or shots of the wild parties going on at the bar, but Chuck is never in them. I mean, he could be having an orgy every night for all I know, but something tells me he's not."

Serena chewed on her lip for moment, thinking. "Nate said something similar," she remembered. "A while ago actually. He went to the penthouse to pick up a few shirts or something and he said the place was spotless. It was the morning after one of his supposed parties and we've both seen the aftermath of one of those. He said Chuck's bed had clearly only been slept in by one person. The only thing that stuck out as unusual was just how much alcohol Chuck had consumed from the bar and the fact that it was eight in the morning and he was already drinking."

"See?" Blair said. "Something doesn't add up." She wished she didn't spend as much time thinking about what something was as she did.

"And Nate said something about visitors being barred from the penthouse, him included. Chuck's assistant – that Perkins guy? – he came across Nate sitting in the lobby. He was waiting for it to get a little later so he didn't walk into something he didn't want to see. Nate said Perkins encouraged him to go up, said something about how things weren't always as they appeared. So Nate did what Perkins said and Chuck was going on about how visitors weren't allowed."

"Why would Chuck ban visitors?" Blair asked. "And Nate lives there, he's not a visitor."

Serena shrugged. "Why does Chuck do anything?"

"I think it would be easier to bring about world peace than to find an answer to that question," Blair quipped. She made a mental note to talk to Perkins – if she could lure him away from The Empire long enough as she wasn't setting foot in that hotel. Chuck's trusted assistant was possibly more dedicated to Chuck's business deals than Chuck. "Does he know that Lily is in the hospital?"

Serena shrugged again. "I didn't call him," she said. "Nate may have mentioned it to him if they talked today. They're suddenly friends again. Something about Johnnie Walker Blue."

"So they got drunk together and all was forgotten," Blair translated, knowing how Chuck worked. She took out her phone and dialed his familiar number.

"Chuck Bass, economics tutor extraordinaire," he answered after only a ring and a half. Blair rolled her eyes on her end.

"Don't let it go to your head," she retorted. "Either of them."

Chuck laughed. She knew by the fact that he was laughing that he didn't know about Lily.

"How did you do on the final?" he wanted to know. Blair smiled slightly, remembering his text she had woken up to and the confidence she had felt as she'd answered question after question on the exam.

"I got an A," she told him. "The grades were posted this morning. But that's not why I'm calling you." She heard a car door open and shut and then heard Vanya's cheerful greeting. She frowned. "Where are you, Bass?"

"At The Palace," he answered. She listened to him return Vanya's greeting. "I've got to pick up something from Lily."

"Oh. Well, I'm here with Serena. I'll talk to you when you get here." She hung up on him. "Chuck's here," she told Serena. "He's in the lobby now. He said he had to get something from Lily."

"Great. Chuck. This day just keeps getting better," Serena muttered, pulling her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. She rested her head against her knees, too worn out emotionally to do much else.

"S, he loves Lily too," Blair reminded her. "Do you know what she was planning on giving him? We can expedite his visit if we prepare in advance." It would be easier to get Chuck out quick than to risk him and Serena coming to blows once more. Serena was in a state of mind that Blair knew would welcome a confrontation with Chuck to distract her from her mother's illness.

"I don't know, probably those diaries of Bart's she had one of the maids dig out of the attic last week."

"Diaries?" Blair asked. "Bart Bass kept a diary?"

"Apparently. There's a whole box of them sitting in Mom and Rufus's room."

"Have you read any of them?" Blair wanted to know.

"No!" Serena exclaimed. "Why would I read Bart Bass's journals?"

"Because they belonged to Bart Bass," Blair countered. "God knows what kind of scandals those things hold. And Chuck is reading them?"

"Reading them, burning them… No idea. And don't care."

The elevator chimed, alerting them to Chuck's arrival.

"Afternoon, ladies," Chuck said as he swaggered in. His eyes fell on the TV where a particularly raunchy scene was playing out. "Soft porn on a Wednesday evening? I approve."

Serena rolled her eyes and turned away from him. She didn't approve of Blair being friendly towards him and she certainly wasn't going to break her vow of silence. Blair however stood up and crossed the room to stand in front of him, suddenly dreading telling him how ill Lily was.

"Hey," Chuck greeted her, stuffing his hands in his pockets. He hadn't planned on seeing her today and consequently had no plan in motion to make him appear suave and confident. Blair's lips turned up slightly. To an outsider, it was a friendly greeting. She knew better, however. Chuck didn't say 'hey' by way of greeting. It was too common folk for his tastes. He was nervous to be around her, most likely, she reasoned, because she had surprised him by being there.

"Hey?" Blair asked, her eyebrows raised but a small smirk playing on her lips.

Chuck grinned. "I wasn't expecting to see you," he admitted. "Though I am, of course, delighted by the surprise." Blair smiled at his attempt at a smooth recovery. Sometimes Chuck Bass was truly clueless. "So, um, was there something you wanted to talk about? I mean, you sounded like you had something to say when you called me a few minutes ago."

Blair glanced over her shoulder at Serena who was pretending to watch Carrie, Miranda, Charlotte, and Samantha do lunch. "Come on," she said, reaching out to tug Chuck's jacket sleeve as she turned towards the stairs. "Let's go in Serena's room."

Chuck followed her up the stairs, trying not to notice how well her dress framed her backside. Once they were in Serena's room, Blair took a seat on the bed. Chuck remained standing, not trusting himself to sit on a bed next to her.

"So Serena's room is my old room," he commented. "What happened to her old room?"

"Jenny Humphrey," Blair answered, barely holding back her eye roll. "Apparently Serena had a moment of graciousness and told the Brooklyn brat she could have it during her whole 'I'm not going to Brown and you're going to have to deal with it or I'm not going to live under your roof' phase." Chuck nodded in understanding, glancing around the room that showed no resemblance to the place he had briefly called home. Even the bed, he noticed, was different. He couldn't really fault her for that.

"Alright. So what's going on?" he asked. Blair sighed. A sudden sense of dread washed over him. He could read her so well. He knew she had bad news.

"Chuck, Lily's in the hospital," she said carefully, watching him for his reaction. Concern, worry, and something else – fear maybe – crowded his face.

"What happened?" he asked. "How long has she been there?"

"She got really sick after her treatment yesterday," Blair explained. "Rufus finally convinced her to go to the hospital early this morning. They spent the morning trying to ease her symptoms, but her fever spiked around lunchtime and they decided to keep her."

Chuck started pacing. "And no one thought to call me?" he asked. "No one thought I might like to be there?"

Blair's insides were filled with guilt. Serena had called her in tears mid-morning and she had only stopped long enough to throw what she needed for her exam in her bag before running out the door. Once she had gotten there, she'd had her hands full consoling Serena before taking off for her exam. When she'd returned and got the news Lily would be staying, she had went into caregiver mode, rounding up Serena, Eric, and Jenny and herding them back to the van der Woodsen-Humphreys for dinner and a night in, leaving Rufus to stay with Lily. Calling Chuck had never dawned on her and she felt terrible for it.

"I'm sorry," she said, genuinely meaning it. "Serena called me this morning and she was upset. Then I had an exam and then I took it upon myself to get Serena, Eric, and Jenny back here and force them to eat something…"

"You aren't the only one who can pick up a phone, Blair," Chuck interrupted. "Any one of the Humphreys could have called. Eric could have called. Nate even. Of course Serena wouldn't bother, but I have a right to know if my legal mother is hospitalized."

"I'm sorry," Blair said again. "But Chuck, maybe if you were around more, they would have thought to call you."

Chuck whirled around to retaliate with words that were still forming in his mind, but his eyes met hers and the fight went out of him. She was right, regardless of how much she he didn't want her to be.

"Do the Humphreys really dislike me that much?" he asked instead. "I wouldn't expect Lonely Boy to give me a courtesy call and Blondie can't see the numbers on the phone through all of her eye makeup, but Rufus could have called. Eric could have called."

"Rufus had his hands full," Blair pointed out. "And Eric… He's just a kid, Chuck. His mom is sick, his father who he doesn't forgive for leaving him so long ago, is back, his sister was a crying mess, his stepsister is too busy plotting the next move on her social climbing agenda that will inevitably backfire on her, one of his stepbrothers is pre-occupied with his refugee of a girlfriend and his other stepbrother can't pull himself out of business deals long enough to ask him how his day was. You can't be mad at them for not calling you."

Chuck sighed and ran a hand through his hair, not caring if he mussed it up.

"What are the doctors saying?" he asked, fully aware that Blair once more had a point he couldn't argue with. "Do they know what's going on?"

"It's confusing," Blair admitted. "It's something to do with her body rebelling against the treatment. They're going to focus on getting her fever down first and making sure she stays hydrated. There's some concern about her picking up an infection or pneumonia, but they're doing everything they can to keep her room sterile."

Chuck nodded in understanding. He had been doing research on Lily's cancer and knew cancer patients often passed away from complications like pneumonia, their immune systems too weak to fight off the foreign invader.

"I'm going to go over there," he said. "I want to see for myself that she's being taken care of."

"Chuck, no," Blair said, standing from the bed. "Visiting hours are over and Lily needs to rest. You can go first thing in the morning."

"I'm Chuck Bass, Blair. A trivial thing like visiting hours isn't going to keep me out of Lily's room. I can buy the damn hospital if I need to."

Blair sighed. "Money can't fix everything, Chuck. You can throw the Bass name around all you want, but at the end of the day, Lily is still sick and the hospital still has visiting hours. Let her rest. The doctors would prefer it if people weren't in and out of her room right now anyway to help keep the germs she's exposed to at a minimum. You can see her first thing tomorrow and threaten the whole hospital staff to make sure she's getting the best possible treatment then."

Chuck wandered over to the window. It didn't have the best view. The street below and more buildings nearly identical to The Palace were all he had to feast his eye upon. He kept his gaze on the cars below as he spoke.

"Lily is all I have," he confessed. "And even she is disappointed in me."

Blair's heart broke for him all over again. For the time being, their differences didn't matter. She went to him and rested her hand on his shoulder.

"She's not all you have," she reminded him. Chuck forced himself to swallow past the lump in his throat before he turned to face Blair, her hand trailing from his shoulder to rest on his chest as he turned. His eyes searched her face.

"Who else do I have?" he asked. "I've pushed away anyone who may have cared and I lost the one person who did."

Blair studied Chuck. It was these moments that were so far and few between that she saw the man she fell in love with. She knew he was in there, hidden behind the mask of a tough businessman who worked too much and kept even more bottled up inside until he couldn't take it anymore. Then he ran, put as much distance between him and whatever – whoever – as he could. Blair knew it was a small miracle and a sign of how much Chuck had changed that he was still there.

"You have me," she told him. Her familiar words registered with him. "My feelings for you haven't changed, even if I can't be with you right now."

Chuck threw any desire to protect himself to the wind.

"Why can't you be with me?" he asked, putting both of his hands on her waist and pulling her to him. She rested her hands on his shoulders. "If you still feel the same, why can't you be with me? I need you, Blair. Especially right now."

Blair wanted nothing more than to throw her arms around him, tell him she loved him, and that they were going to be okay. She couldn't though. She still needed him to fight for her. She needed him to prove that he was sorry for what he had done and she needed to be able to trust him again. Love him as she did, trust him she did not.

"I can't trust you, Chuck. I can't be with you if I can't trust you. You've let me down too many times." Chuck dropped his head so his forehead was resting against hers.

"You can trust me, Blair. You can trust me with your life."

"I trusted you with my heart," she reminded him. Her eyelashes fluttered against his skin. "And then you broke it."

Chuck closed his eyes, the familiar sensation of pain and a broken heart washing over him.

"Tell me what to do," he pleaded, his forehead still resting against hers. "Tell me how to help you trust me again."

"Be there, Chuck. Don't run away. Fight for me. Fight for us."

Chuck nodded. "I will. I am." He knew he shouldn't do it, but he couldn't stop himself. He leaned down and kissed her once, soundly and firmly on her lips, sparks flying. She surprised him by responding with a nearly identical kiss of her own, her soft lips warming him on the inside, giving back some of the faith he had lost that he hadn't realized he had in the first place. Their foreheads rested together for another brief second, their shared kisses acting to seal Chuck's promise, just as much as the return of her heart pin had, if not more. Blair was the one who pulled away. Both of them knew it would have to be her. Chuck didn't have it in him to let her go first.

"You're not alone," she told him. "I know it's hard for you to let people in. I can't begin to tell you how much I regret encouraging you to let Elizabeth in. But Chuck, Rufus isn't Elizabeth. The worst damage he can do to you is clog your arteries with his waffle addiction. He cares about you because Lily cares about you and if Lily cares, he knows you're worthwhile.

"And Eric, he needs you. He needs someone to protect him. He's got it worse than most teenagers between being gay and his suicide attempt. He needs someone who will take care of the courtyard bullies and not judge him when everyone else in our world is. You have Nate who has been your best friend since the sandbox. I know things aren't good between you two right now, but if Serena and I are still speaking after all this time, you two can repair your friendship. I mean, who else would Nate have lost weekends with?"

Chuck grinned just a little, already feeling better. He did have Nate, he reasoned. He hadn't hesitated to come over when he put out the Johnnie Walker Blue call and hadn't asked questions when he got there.

"You have people, Chuck. Serena will come around and, well, even Dan Humphrey isn't that bad, if you can ignore the Brooklyn stench. And you can't forget Vanya and Dorota or our goddaughter. If we play our cards right, she'll like us more than she likes her own parents."

Chuck gave a short laugh. "We are better looking than her mother and father," he conceded, making Blair laugh lightly. He reached for her hand and played with her fingers. "Thank you, Blair." Blair smiled at him.

"You're not alone," she repeated. "Our family might be an interconnected mess and the word 'step' might be used a lot, but they're our family, as unconventional as it is. You just need to accept that to see it."

"I'll work on it," he promised. "Lily has instated family dinners on Sundays. That's a start, right?" Her speech sounded oddly similar to the one Lily had given him at the penthouse, but for some reason, Blair's hit him closer to home.

Blair smiled and nodded. "It's a start," she agreed. "A good one."

Chuck took a deep breath and let go of Blair's hand.

"I stopped by to pick up something from Lily, but if she's in the hospital, I guess it'll have to wait."

"Bart's diaries?" Blair asked. A flicker of surprise crossed Chuck's face.

"You know about them?" he asked. He wasn't sure how he felt about that. He had always planned on sharing them with her, if and when they were in a good place again. But he had planned to wait until he was ready, until he knew what sort of things those diaries held so he could prepare Blair for what she was about to read.

"Not really," Blair admitted. "Serena mentioned them when I told her you were in the lobby. She said they're in Lily and Rufus's room. And no, she hasn't read them."

Chuck looked at her with a raised eyebrow. "Which is more than I can say for you had you known they were there before I came to get them." Blair grinned guiltily. Chuck laughed just a little and opened the bedroom door for her. She walked out and led the way to the master bedroom. There was a small cardboard box sitting in the floor in front of the bed.

"This them?" Blair asked, toeing the box. Chuck opened the lid and revealed at least fifteen more journals, maybe more.

"It's them," he confirmed. "Looks like I've got plenty of bedtime reading for the next few weeks."

Blair perched on Lily's bed and watched Chuck put the top back on the box. "It's kind of hard to believe Bart kept diaries," she commented. Chuck sat down next to her, both of them gazing at the box on the floor.

"Lily has read them. She said the Bart Bass we all knew isn't necessarily the only side of him."

"Do you believe that?"

Chuck shrugged. "It's too soon to tell. It seems that my mother – my real mother – did die after giving birth. She had a pre-existing heart condition and preeclampsia. Bart picked out her coffin the same day he brought me home."

"Oh, Chuck," Blair said, reaching out and resting her hand above his knee.

"At least I know what happened," Chuck reasoned. "He wrote that she got to hold me, said there were pictures but I have never seen them. You know, my nanny dressed me up like a knight for my first Halloween." Blair smiled at the thought of an infant Chuck in knight drag.

"Chuck Bass, a knight in shining armor," Blair mused. Chuck shook his head.

"If anything, I was the black knight," he said. "I don't know, Blair. Reading that first journal Lily brought over… Bart wanted me. At least for a while. He took Christmas off to spend the day with me even though I was little enough to not know if he were there or not. He planned this big, elaborate party when I turned a year old. It doesn't add up with the Bart I grew up knowing."

"Bart was a complicated man," Blair offered. "Maybe you'll understand him better after you read these."

"Maybe," Chuck said skeptically.

"You're not him," Blair reminded him. Chuck shrugged and stood up.

"I traded you for a hotel," he said, turning to face Blair. "What kind of man does that make me?" Blair couldn't answer him. He knew she couldn't. "I should get going. You and Serena were in the middle of something and I've taken enough of your time. She needs you right now."

Blair followed him out the room and to the top of the stairs. Eric was coming up them, a bag of popcorn in one hand, a soda in the other.

"Chuck!" he greeted. "What are you doing here?"

"Just picking these up," Chuck answered, indicating the box of journals in his hands. "Blair told me about Lily."

Eric's face instantly fell as he thought about his mother, lying in a hospital bed so ill she could barely sit up. "I should have called you," he said. "I was preoccupied though. I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it," Chuck dismissed. Blair breathed a sigh of relief that he wasn't going to lash out at Eric for not calling him about Lily. "Just – call me next time, okay?"

Eric nodded. "I will," he promised. "So um, are you on your way out?"

"I am," Chuck confirmed. "I've already taken enough of Blair's time this evening."

"Well I'm about to watch a movie. You're free to join me. Unless you have something better to do."

Blair raised her eyebrow at Chuck, hoping he would agree to stay, reestablish his relationship with Eric. Chuck briefly caught her eye and his mind was made up.

"I guess I could spare a few hours," he said casually though Blair knew inside, he was thrilled at being included. "What are we watching?" He sat the box down and pushed them to the wall so he could grab them when he left later.

"I was thinking Transformers," Eric said. "Jenny is holed up in her room working on a project for Blair's mom so I can watch something besides New Moon for a change."

"I like Transformers," Chuck agreed, turning towards the direction of Eric's room. Blair snorted. Chuck loved the Transformers movies, and not just because he could ogle Megan Fox. She could distinctly remember a very large collection of transformer action figures from their grade school days. He looked over his shoulder before he disappeared into Eric's bedroom. "I assume you're spending the night." Blair nodded in confirmation. "Then I'll come find you before I leave, say goodnight."

Blair smiled sweetly. "Then I'd better not fall asleep until then. Otherwise you might take advantage of me." Chuck laughed as he disappeared into Eric's room. Blair couldn't quite wipe the smile off her face as she returned to Serena and their Sex and the City marathon. Serena eyed her.

"You're falling for him all over again," she accused. Blair shook her head.

"Is it falling for him when you never really fell out of love with him in the first place?" she asked. Serena understood that it was a rhetorical question.

"Be careful, B," Serena warned. "That's Chuck Bass you're still in love with." Blair sighed and leaned her head back on the couch.

"I know," she said. "Trust me, I know."

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**I love Sex and the City. A lot. **


	13. Chapter 13

**HELLO INTERNET! I haven't had internet outside of my BlackBerry since my layover at the Charlotte airport Saturday night and I've been going insane. I got it all squared away this morning though and I can finally finally finally post this and respond to reviews. Yes! The good news? The next update is nearly done so it should be posted soonish. This update is a bit of a filler yet not – if that even makes sense! In my opinion, Chuck selling Blair out isn't his only fault in the relationship…  
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**I just figured out how to see how many people have this story on favorite or have me as a favorite author… Wow. I keep saying it, I know, but really, wow. Thank you all so much. I'm in the process of responding to replies to both this story and the one shot, so be on the lookout for that. I love you all dearly!  
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**THINGS I OWN: A pink plaid planner that is my other lifeline, my Blackberry being my first. THINGS I DON'T OWN: Gossip Girl. **

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He had always intended The Empire to be the ticket to his first self-made million. When he had bought it just months ago, it was meant to be the start of his legacy, the showpiece of something he earned, not something passed down from his father. As he rode to the hospital in the back of his limo, he reviewed the papers he had signed minutes earlier. His hotel had made him that million plus two and a half more to go with it, but it wasn't in the manner he had hoped.

It was bittersweet, really. The moment the deal had been reached and his signature had been scratched, he had felt the metaphorical weight be lifted from his shoulders. Yet somewhere in the deepest pit of his stomach, he felt a sense of regret at parting ways with the place. He had been just over a hundred thousand away from making his first million the way he had intended. He had proven that he could do it, that he could run a company successfully. A part of him, however small, had wanted to see it through, see what it turned into. Foggy visions of a chain of Empire Hotels throughout first the United States and then the world threatened to dance into his head, but he refused to think about them now. It was too late anyway.

The regrets that came with selling were outnumbered twofold by the benefits however. In his gut, he knew he was making the right choice. The hotel no longer represented the legacy he wanted to leave. It was a part of his life he wanted to leave behind. What was once meant to mark the beginning of his own personal empire now represented his worst mistakes and biggest regrets. Selling the place wasn't just a gesture to win Blair back, but also his own way of moving past what he had done.

While he was certain about selling The Empire, he was less certain about his return to Bass Industries. He was inclined to believe it was a good idea, but he couldn't be sure. The company, while not hurting exactly, had experienced a bit of a downturn as a result of the economy and lack of leadership. He had his work cut out for him to get the place back on track. It wasn't the state of the company he was weary of, however. It was what it meant to be both CEO and the son of Bart Bass and the expectations that came with it. The company was his father's brainchild and as he read Bart's journals, he was becoming less sure of the man he had known, the ruthless businessman he had both feared and idolized now mixing with a man who was, if not a family man, then at least conscious to the fact that he had a son.

People knew Bart Bass. He was new money, self-made from the ground up, but he had power and he had status and even on the Upper East Side where old money was everything, he was feared. Crossing Bart was not something one wanted to do. Even Captain Archibald, in all his embezzlement glory, hadn't crossed Bart Bass despite the fact that they did business together. His presence was global, his fortune growing exponentially from year to year. He was new money, but he had more money than any of the old money families he socialized with. When he walked into a room, people could sense him. Growing up, that was the kind of man Chuck had wanted to be – respected and feared.

He had admired his father. When he was young, he would sit in the shadows and watch as Bart argued with men in suits, manipulated them until he got his way, and then grinned in self-satisfaction when they left the room. He had even copied his father's style, wearing suits or the occasional sweater vest to appear distinguished instead of the more casual button downs and khakis Nate and their classmates wore. He had tried to copy Bart's prominent stance and predatory gait, resulting in his own brand of Chuck Bass swagger. Bart hadn't taught Chuck much on how to be a man, but he had taught him everything he knew about business, whether he had known it or not. Even if he couldn't say much else about his father, he could say he had taught him how to make a dollar.

As he read Bart's journals, a new image of his father was being painted. At least for the first year of his life, his father had genuinely cared about him. He had written about things like first birthdays and first steps intermingled with business deals and the associates he had distain for. He had dug out the second journal Bart had written in the night before after arriving home from Lily's, but he had been too tired to begin reading it, having watched both Transformers movies with Eric and draped a blanket over a sleeping Blair.

He smiled as he thought about Blair. She had been sleeping soundly in Serena's bed in a purple silk nightgown. Serena had stolen all the covers so he had hunted down a spare blanket to cover her with, ghosting a kiss on her forehead and whispering 'sleep well, beautiful' before forcing himself to leave. After spending the evening with Eric and having the opportunity to tell Blair goodnight, the penthouse had seemed even lonelier than usual when he returned. Figuring it wouldn't be going against Lily's wishes if he took a sleeping pill as he hadn't had so much as a mouthful of scotch, he had popped two and crawled into bed, acutely aware of how big and empty it was.

The car rolled to a stop, bringing Chuck from his thoughts, a place he spent a lot of his time as of late. He put his documents back in their folder and set them aside, sliding from the backseat when Arthur opened the door. He tried to ignore the distinct hospital stench as he made his way through the lobby, his disdain for hospitals growing. His father had died in one. So had his mother. It was likely Lily would as well.

He took the elevator to Lily's floor and tapped on her door. He waited until he heard a muffled 'come in' from Rufus before pushing the door open.

"Charles!" Lily greeted him. Chuck immediately noticed how weak she sounded. She was propped up in bed wearing pink silk pajamas, her white scarf wrapped around her head. No blond hairs were visible.

"Lily," he replied, putting on the best smile he could manage. "Rufus," he added with a nod. He took in how tired and rumpled Rufus looked and felt a moment of compassion for the man. He could only imagine how he would feel if it were Blair in the hospital bed, the life slowly fading from her body. "I would have come sooner, but I didn't know you were ill until last night when I stopped by to pick up those journals." He tried to keep the biter note out of voice.

"Well you knew I was ill, technically," Lily reasoned. "But no one told you about my glorious vomiting and dangerously high fever?"

"Blair did," Chuck answered, ignoring Lily's attempts at lightening the mood. "She was in caregiver mode last night. She made sure Serena, Eric, and Jenny were taken care of."

"Of course she did," Lily said fondly. She turned to Rufus. "Rufus, why didn't you call Charles?" Rufus looked guilty.

"I had my hands full, Lil. Honestly, I thought one of the kids would give him a call," he replied.

"Need I remind you that _the kids_ don't particularly care for me right now?" Chuck asked. "But no hard feelings. Just give me a call next time." Rufus nodded in agreement. Chuck felt like he had earned himself a pat on the back for not lashing out at anyone for not calling him.

"Rufus, could you give Charles and I a few minutes?" Lily asked.

"I could go for some coffee," Rufus agreed, already standing. "Either of you need anything?" Both Chuck and Lily shook their heads no. They waited until the door closed behind Rufus before Chuck settled into a chair next to Lily's bed.

"Blair filled me in as best she could, but what happened yesterday, Lily? How do you feel now and what are the doctors saying?"

Lily sighed. "There's a lot of fancy, technical words to explain it, but basically, my body is rejecting the treatments. Essentially, the cancer has taken over and is now running the show. Today, I'm feeling better than yesterday, but still not wonderful. You won't care for what the doctors have to say." Chuck frowned.

"What is it, Lily?" He prepared as best he could in the time he had for the bad news that was about to come.

"I'm having a consult with hospice care later today," Lily told him gently. She reached for his hand and held it in her weak, bony one. "There is nothing more that can be done. My time has gone from short to limited and it's time to make arrangements for my last days to be as comfortable as they can."

Even though he had been prepared to hear it, the news still knocked the wind out of him.

"Lily," he breathed. "Are they…"

"Sure?" Lily asked. "Yes, Charles, they're very sure. Serena and Eric and Dan and Jenny haven't been told yet. I'll speak with them after I meet with hospice and I would like you there. We are, essentially, having a family meeting."

"A family meeting to discuss the matriarch's impending death. Should be a good time," Chuck said, his defense mechanisms firing to ward off the churning storm of emotions threatening to rear it's ugly head in the pit of his stomach.

"You will be there," Lily told him, leaving no room for debate. "Now, let's talk about something besides cancer and dying. Isn't today they day you're supposed to close on the hotel's sale?"

"It's already done," Chuck said. "I pushed the meeting up to first thing this morning so I could come here the moment visiting hours started. There's three and a half million more in the bank and I am no longer tied to The Empire Hotel."

"Is that a fair price?"

"I had it on the market for four. They agreed to take on legal and closing fees if I shaved of half a million. I priced it to sell and I made a small profit. They gave me 60 days to move out of the penthouse, something about them not being sure of what they're doing with it yet, whether they're going to let guests book it or if they're going to sell it for a residence. I'm hoping to not need thirty."

"Have you thought about where you'll be moving?"

"To an extent. I've hired an agent. I'm considering booking a suite at The Palace until I find something more permanent. I'll be closer to you if I'm there."

"Make your decisions based on what you want, Charles, not what you think would be best for me. Find yourself a nice apartment or another penthouse, not a hotel suite. You've lived too much of your life in hotel suites."

She had a point. Suite 1812 had been his refuge nearly the whole of his teenage years. To everyone else, it had been a den of sin where binge drinking took place, lines of fine white powder disappeared, and fast women came a dime a dozen. Nate used it as his escape, be it from his parents or Blair. For Chuck, it had been the one place he could go and just be.

"How is the fighting for Blair thing coming along?" Lily asked, changing the subject once more. It was her hope to see them reunited before she passed though she now knew there was a slim chance of that happening. She would rest easier knowing things were on the right track between them, however.

"It's – progressing," he said. "We've spent some time together."

"And?" she pressed.

"And she didn't kick me out or inflict bodily harm," Chuck reasoned. "I think that's a good sign."

"It is. But have you talked about anything that has happened between the two of you? For example, why you aren't together in the first place?"

For some reason, Chuck couldn't lie to Lily. If anyone else had asked him that question, he would have pulled his cards off the table and kept them close to his chest. He would have delivered a well-placed one liner, poured a drink, and changed the subject. With Lily, he found he wanted to be honest with her. She might be able to help him, give him advice or a suggestion on what to do to progress things with Blair. She was, after all, a woman.

"We talked last some last night," he admitted. "She gave me a lecture similar to the one you gave about how I needed to stop pushing people away and accept that I have people around me who care. But that took a backseat when she told me she still loved me. She didn't say the words, of course, but she said her feelings hadn't changed. I need to prove she can trust me before we can try this relationship thing again." He really missed hearing her say those words.

"I think trust may be your real issue behind all of this," Lily reasoned. "You and Blair have always had some trust issues from what I've observed.

Chuck thought about that. Blair had needed to hear him say 'I love you' to give their relationship a try, unable to trust him without hearing it. He wondered now if she had ever fully trusted him. If he were honest with himself, he hadn't given her much of a reason to. What she had told him last night about how she needed him to be there suddenly made a lot more sense. They had never talked about wrong things had gone in the past or how either of them had been affected by it. Blair manipulating him into kissing the dean on her behalf registered in his mind and he realized his trust issues had been long ago founded. If his trust in her had been shaky, she could only imagine what her's was in him before Jack, let alone afterward.

"How do I get her to trust me?" he asked Lily. "She said to be there, but what does that mean?"

Lily smiled at the clueless boy in front of her. "It means just that, Charles. You do have a history of running when things get tough. Even though you didn't leave the country this time, Blair still believes you're sleeping with half of Manhattan. You need to let her know that isn't the case and never has been. As for how to get her to trust you again, you have to work that one out on your own. I suggest having a real talk with Blair, one without gifts to bribe her or comments loaded with innuendo."

Chuck nodded. He could do that. He had to do that. He just wasn't good at the whole talking thing. There was a reason he and Blair's relationship had been largely physical. He spied a deck of cards sitting on the table next to Lily's bed. "You up for a game of gin?" he asked.

Lily looked over at the cards and then smiled at Chuck. "Anything to distract me."

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He had stood up in his high chair when he was 18 months old and toppled out of it, earning himself a big goose egg on his forehead. He had said his first curse word when he was two. It was 'son of a bitch' though according to Bart's journal, it sounded more like 'sum of a ditch.' Chuck had three guesses where he picked that one up at. It seemed that he had been the definition of the terrible twos, many of his misdeeds chronicled in the second volume of Bart's journals. He had gotten into his nanny's makeup and used her lipstick to decorate the hallway walls. It seemed he also liked to flush things down the toilet and had specialized in sending blocks through the plumbing system. He would have thought his antics would anger his father, but from his journals, it seemed he was amused by them, even if it had cost him a fair penny to repaint the walls and replace the plumbing system.

His phone rang out and he reached for it, his eyes still on the journal entry he was reading. He fumbled for it before he picked it up. The screen displayed Blair's name. He answered quickly.

"Blair," he answered. "It's late. Is everything okay?"

"I was kind of calling to ask you that," came her voice. "I'm at Serena's again. She told me about the family meeting in Lily's hospital room today, just before she cried herself to sleep. I thought I'd call and see how you were holding up." Her genuine concern made him not exactly smile, given the nature of her call, but to consider it.

"It is what it is," he answered. "I know that sounds callus, but there's nothing we can do but accept it."

"You have a point," Blair said, surprising him by agreeing. He had pegged her to be in Serena's camp, pulling for a miracle until the very last breath Lily took. "I don't want this to happen, but it seems as though it's unavoidable. If Serena isn't going to accept reality, I'll have to. One of us has to be strong when the time comes."

"You always are the strong one," he said earnestly. "Even if you don't know it."

"I'm not as strong as you think," Blair countered. Chuck decided now would be a good time to change the subject. He didn't like talking or even thinking about Lily's impending death.

"How is Eric holding up?" he asked. "He seemed okay enough when I sent him home in the limo a few hours ago, but I didn't know if that was a show or if it were genuine.

"Pretty well, considering the circumstances. He and Little J are having a Robert Pattinson movie marathon as we speak."

"And what about you?"

"Me?" Blair asked. "I'm fine. It's not my mother that's being put on hospice care with numbered days." Chuck sighed.

"Blair, tell me the truth."

"I'm fine, Chuck." Her tone was testy, daring him to push her. He did anyway. It was necessary to push when it came to Blair Waldorf.

"You're not. You've gone into caregiver mode. It's what you do when you're upset or stressed out. You either play Nurse Blair or you…" Chuck stopped himself. He didn't know if Blair was aware that he knew about her eating disorder. She hadn't told him – no one had – but he had always kept it in the back of his mind, monitored what Blair was eating and whether or not she excused herself shortly after a meal. The only time he had came close to mentioning it was on Thanksgiving when Blair had assumed her mother was pregnant and left the table with a hoity 'I want pie.' He had found her a few minutes later, sitting at the counter in Serena's kitchen, eating a small slice of pie daintily and he had let it slide, relieved and unwilling to create any more drama than the day already contained.

"Or I what?" Blair asked. He heard the note of challenge in her voice. He sighed. Honesty, he reminded himself. He needed to be honest in order to gain Blair's trust.

"Or you make yourself sick," he said slowly. Silence met his ears. He waited with baited breath, whether for her to verbal smack him down or for the dial tone indicating that she had hung up on him, he didn't know. That was for her to decide.

"You know?" she asked so softly he barely heard her.

"I do," he confirmed. "You forget that I know you, Blair. And I do not, under any circumstances, approve of you doing that to yourself."

"I haven't done it in a long time," Blair answered quickly, like a child who was being accused of disobeying the rules. "The last time was two Thanksgivings ago. My dad wasn't there and my mom didn't have his pie…" she rambled.

"I know, Blair," Chuck said gently. "I believe you."

"How did you know?" Blair asked with curiosity in her voice. "The only person I have ever told was Serena. Other than my parents and Dorota, no one else knows."

"I'm an observer, Blair," Chuck explained. "I noticed how you disappeared after meals and returned twenty minutes later with the slightest of guilty looks on your face. It was so slight no one else would pick up on it, but I always did. When I got curious enough, I followed you a few times to prove I was right with my suspicions. I would hear the water running and maybe a faint gagging sound. And just so you know, it broke my heart that you thought you had to do that to yourself." More silence.

"I can't believe you noticed," she finally said, almost whispered. There were tears in her voice. "No one else ever did."

"I never understood why Nate could be so oblivious," Chuck wondered. To him, Nate should have been the one who had picked up on all of her subtly clues. He was the one who was supposed to know her and love her more than anyone else.

"Because Nate didn't want to see me," Blair answered. "I couldn't control him falling in love with Serena or my dad being gay and leaving my mom, but I could control my mom's opinions of me. If I was thin enough, if I looked good enough in an Eleanor Waldorf original, then she was happy and I had control over something." It broke Chuck's heart to think of Blair believing she wasn't beautiful enough. She was too beautiful for her own good.

"Promise me you won't do that to yourself again," he said urgently.

"Chuck, it's an illness. I can't promise anything. I can try though." Chuck nodded even though Blair couldn't see him.

"Then promise me if you feel the need to – purge – or if you actually do, that you'll come to me. Regardless of where we stand, together or apart, you will come to me." He needed her to promise him that.

"I promise," she said softly.

"Thank you," he answered. His eyes fell on the diary laying open in his lap. "Do you have a few minutes?" he asked, changing the subject.

"Yes…"

"Let me read to you," he said. "My dad's journal." Blair's silence told him to proceed. He picked up the journal and flipped back several pages.

"May 25, 1993," he read to her. "As much as Charles looks like his mother, it seems he's gotten at least a few of his father's habits. He said his first curse word today. He was playing with a set of blocks, building a hotel in the living room floor. It was getting higher and higher and starting to lean. Finally, it fell and he let out a loud 'son of a bitch.' Except it sounded more like 'sum of a ditch.' I probably should have disciplined him, but who would I be to correct him when I say the same thing myself?"

"You built hotels even as a toddler," Blair mused. "And it seems I was right when I assumed you'd been corrupt since birth."

"I built hotels that fell down," Chuck corrected. "It's a bit ironic, isn't it?"

"I suppose," Blair agreed. "Read me another one?"

"Let's see," Chuck said, turning the pages. "Here's one I haven't read yet: June 13, 1993. Today, it hit me that Evelyn has been gone two years. I guess I glossed over the fact on Charles's birthday. I had a big meeting that day, then had a small birthday gathering that night. It was easier to focus on work and my son than the fact that she wasn't there. I miss her smile the most, I think. She lit up a room with her smile. It doesn't seem right that Charles is growing up without her, nor that she's not here to see him grow.

"I find myself wondering if I'm being a good father. Is Charles happy? Is he taken care of and am I giving him everything he needs? How about when he gets older? What will I do then? He's going to have questions and he's going to make mistakes and I don't know how to deal with any of those things."

Chuck finished reading the entry and not for the first time, wished there was more written. It seemed like every time his father got too close to making a major revelation about what was going on inside his head, he backed down, didn't go any further.

"He really loved your mom," Blair stated. "Your real mother, I guess we should say."

"It seems so," Chuck agreed.

"And he loved you."

"Maybe." Chuck was reluctant to believe that. Not until he could reconcile the father he had known with the father he was seeing in those journals.

"He did," Blair said with certainty. "Thank you for sharing those with me." Chuck smiled, fully aware that they had just had one of the most open, honest conversations they had ever had. It wasn't even as hard as he thought it would be.

"It's part of this new leaf I'm turning over," he told her.

"A new leaf? Let me guess. You're branching out and trying pot from another country." Witty Blair was back, the wall between them back in place though maybe, Chuck thought, missing a few bricks.

"I was referring to this whole being honest with you thing."

"Oh," was Blair's only reply, clearly too surprised to say much else. Chuck glanced at the clock and saw just how late it was getting.

"I should go," he said. "I have a meeting with the board of Bass Industries in the morning to discuss my initial plans as CEO and I need to go look at a few places my real estate agent found."

"You're moving?" Blair asked. "Does that mean the hotel has been sold?"

"I signed the papers today," he confirmed. "I've got sixty days to move, but I'd like to get out of here in thirty."

"Why the hurry?"

"Home should be a place to relax, unwind after a long day in the office, not a permanent reminder of all the things you've done wrong."

"Sometimes I wonder if you even realize what you did wrong," Blair commented.

"I sold you to my uncle and you no longer trust me. I know exactly what I did wrong." It was clear as day to him. On her end of the phone, Blair shook her head sadly.

"The fact that you think that's the only thing you did tells me you aren't ready for our relationship to move forward. Trusting you is hard enough, but knowing you don't know what you did wrong – and not just with the Jack thing - is almost harder."

"Blair…"

"Night, Chuck," she said. There was a click and a dial tone. He sighed and let his phone fall to the bed as his head fell back on the headboard. He went through the scenario in his head again, just has he had every day since Blair had walked away from him in her building's lobby.

He had lied and manipulated her. He readily admitted to that. But Blair had lied to him before too. That didn't necessarily make it right, but certainly it offset some of the damage, didn't it? He understood the trust thing too. He had hurt her and Blair was careful with her heart. She always had been. He was working on the trust thing. But what else could he have possibly done?

While he admitted to not being a perfect boyfriend, he thought he'd done a good enough job. He had made sure she had whatever her heart desired. He had gone through painstaking lengths to make sure Blair Waldorf knew she was still Blair Waldorf, finding and paying a phototog to take her picture at that ridiculous movie premiere. He had bought her gifts and been faithful to her. What else, besides manipulating her, could he have possibly done wrong?

He fell asleep with that thought on his mind. A short couple of hours later, he bolted upright in bed, sweat pouring down his face. The fedora wearing men had taken Blair once more. But this time he had gotten there in time yet he did nothing to stop them, watching from the shadows with his hands in his pockets as they took her out the door while she screamed and protested and tried to wrench herself away from them.

He fumbled in the drawer of his bedside table and found his bottle of sleeping pills, the prescription name reading 'Jeffrey Clark.' He threw back two and swallowed them without a chaser. An hour later, still wide awake, still reeling from his dream, his mind racing as he tried to figure out what it all meant, he opened the drawer and popped one more. He slept through the alarm meant to wake him for his meeting.

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**I've been meaning to tell you all… There are two Jason Aldean songs that sort of represent this fic – "The Truth" and "Don't Give Up On Me." You can listen to both on YouTube – I recommend them. :)**


	14. Chapter 14

**Dear everyone, I apologize that this took far longer than I would have liked to update. I started my internship on Tuesday and I'm utterly in love with it like you wouldn't believe, but between getting lost multiple times and staring out the window of whatever building or vehicle I'm in all starry-eyed and in love with this place, I've only been able to write a little bit each night. And apparently you need to go to bed early when you're a working girl. But! It's a holiday weekend so maybe I can crank something out for y'all this weekend? Love, Crazed Intern**

**As always, THANK YOU for taking the time out to review! I love you all. I really do. I'm behind on replying, but I should be able to catch up by the weekend! Love to all of you! I mean seriously, there are over 200 reviews on this story! That's insane! In a totally good way of course. **

**THINGS I OWN: A name badge I wear proudly at work. THINGS I DON'T OWN: Gossip Girl**

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"And the worst part? He fails to realize it's not just the fact that he pimped me out to Jack. He thinks if he says he's sorry enough times, I'll eventually forgive him. You know what? If he said 'I'm sorry' for the right things, maybe I would. Why is he so damn dense?" Blair punctuated the end of her rant by shoving a piece of salmon into her mouth and chewing violently. Nate, seated across from her, cut another piece of his steak and wished he were anywhere else but seated across the table from Blair Waldorf in the middle of a dignified tantrum.

"Why don't you just tell him whatever else he did wrong?" he asked. "It's Chuck, Blair. He's not exactly programmed to understand things like hurt feelings and wounded pride."

"Telling him would defeat the purpose!" Blair exploded. "He needs to understand on his own!"

Nate sighed and wondered why he had bothered to offer advice in the first place. He was merely eating with Blair because it was Sunday and neither of them had anywhere to go. The van der Woodsens, Humphreys, and Chuck were having one of their family dinners and while invitations had been extended to both himself and Blair, they had both declined, wanting to give the eclectically comprised family some time together, himself wanting to avoid feeling like he had to pick between his best friend and his girlfriend as Serena had yet to say so much as 'pass the salt' to Chuck since their dining room confrontation. Blair had roped him into joining her for dinner and had been ranting about Chuck since the time their first drinks had arrived.

"I don't understand the two of you," Nate declared. "I can't decide what you love more - each other or hurting each other." He expected Blair to retaliate with a sharp tongue. It could be a game, he reasoned, to see how far he could push Blair before he went too far and lost his head in the aftermath. It would entertain him at least. Instead, she sighed.

"It's complex and confusing and nothing about us makes sense, but we do love each other, Nate. Even when we probably shouldn't. Chuck said it best – we're magnetic. Seeing as I'm working on forgiving the unforgivable, I'd even say we're inevitable."

"You know, Chuck really is remorseful for what he did," Nate commented. If Blair was suddenly going to lose her soaring temper and effectively end his game, he figured he could throw his best friend a bone at least. Blair eyed him, suddenly remembering her conversation with Serena and surprised she hadn't thought to bring it up before.

"Serena said you went to Chuck's penthouse the night after one of his supposed parties and there was no sign of one." Nate nodded his agreement with the story. "She also said Chuck was going on about visitors being banned and that he was drinking at eight o'clock in the morning."

"He was," Nate confirmed. "And the penthouse was spotless. The only thing out of place was a bottle of scotch sitting on the floor next to a chair by the window. There was a lot of alcohol missing from the bar though. He went tried to throw me out even though I technically live there. I don't know what's going on with him, to be honest."

"It's not adding up," Blair said, tapping her plate with her fork. "I can't put my finger on what it is, but nothing is adding up. He's never in the pictures Gossip Girl posts and lately, the parties and hookers have stopped. I guess it's because of Lily being so sick, but still, something isn't clicking. He didn't even smell like scotch the last couple of times I saw him."

"I can assure you he's still drinking scotch." Nate reached for his own drink on that note.

"Serena mentioned Johnnie Walker," Blair told him. "What was that about?"

Nate hesitated. He didn't understand the Johnnie Walker SOS call himself. He had been with Serena when it had came in, her half asleep and his boredom growing, his thoughts straying to the number of Wii games he had at the penthouse. Chuck had called and repeated the words from the note Nate hadn't been sure he'd even read. Having been Chuck Bass's best friend for nearly his whole life, he knew if Chuck was asking for help, it was bad.

When he had arrived, Chuck was well on his way to whatever past drunk was having hit the drunk mark long ago. Nate had asked him if he was okay and he had said no. He'd followed that up with the obligated 'do you want to talk about it' to which Chuck had again answered no. Chuck had slid a glass of scotch his direction and turned up a fresh glass himself showing no signs of slowing up anytime soon. Nate had taken it upon himself to drink just to keep Chuck from consuming it all and had endured the mother of all hangovers the next day to prove it. Of course, neither of them had mentioned the night before when Nate had stumbled to the kitchen for the Aspirin Chuck was already opening, Chuck passing him two pills his way of saying thank you while Nate's half toast of his water glass before swallowing down the pain killers his you're welcome.

"Nothing, really," Nate said, lying. He had a feeling whatever it was that had prompted Chuck to call him was something Chuck needed to discuss with Blair and he would do whatever he needed to keep it as quiet as he could until then, even if he had no idea what it was he was hiding. "I guess it was Chuck's way of offering an olive branch. We haven't been on the best of terms lately." It occurred to Nate that every time he and Chuck had been at odds, Blair was at the center of the conflict.

"Chuck needs you," Blair told him, her eyes serious. "I don't know if he's strong enough to handle losing Lily. I know you'll have your hands full with Serena when the time comes, but – just don't forget about Chuck."

Nate studied Blair. The Blair he had known while her boyfriend was not the Blair that was now sitting across from him. That Blair had cared about scaling the social ladder and being Queen Bee, not about who she hurt or knocked down in the process. This Blair had given up her schemes and games. She had grown up and somewhere along the way, became a good person. That wasn't to say the schemes wouldn't be resurrected if the situation called for it, but social demise was no longer on the agenda. There were more important things on her mind, namely how to take care of her friends.

"I won't forget about him," Nate promised. "But we both know the one person he'll need is… you."

"I know," was all Blair said. And she did know. She had already jumped ahead to the inevitable day when Lily passed away and was attempting to come up with the best plan of action for comforting those she loved. So far, the only definitive plan she had in place was having Dorota cook up enough food so Lily's family – Chuck included - didn't have to cook or call for room service for at least two weeks.

Without warning, her stomach gave a lurch. Nate saw her face suddenly pale.

"Are you okay?" he asked. Blair breathed in through her nose and half shook her head no, half nodded yes, trying not to open her mouth for fear of losing the contents of her meal. "Should I get the check?" She nodded urgently before getting up and sprinting as gracefully as she could to the bathroom.

* * *

She was certain she couldn't move if she wanted to. She was also certain she would never eat salmon again. She heard her room door open and close but didn't bother opening her eyes. If she pretended to be asleep, maybe whatever doctor coming to ask her how she was feeling this time would leave her alone. The feel of warm lips pressing a kiss to her damp forehead made her flutter her eyelids open. She was rewarded with Chuck's brown eyes, soft and full of concern as he leaned over her.

"The doctor said you were resting," he said softly. He reached a hand out and pushed the hair away from her forehead.

"I couldn't if I wanted to," she complained. "They keep coming and asking me if I'm okay. I just want to sleep!" She knew she was whining, but she felt too bad to care. Chuck studied her for a whole two seconds before picking up her hand and kissing it gently.

"I'll be right back," he promised. Then he disappeared.

Blair closed her eyes again and started piecing together the events that had led her to the emergency room once more. She had become violently ill at the restaurant suddenly and by the time Nate had helped her to the sofa of her mother's living room, she had been on the verge of collapse. A fever had taken over and her stomach, devoid of anything to throw up, had continued cramping violently, prompting Nate to call Dorota. Dorota had rushed over from Queens, taken one look at her, cursed the temporary maid for not having Gatorade or another suitable substitute on hand in case of a stomach emergency, and called for the car to take them to the hospital. There was something about food poisoning and dehydration and there were dry heaves and extreme nausea followed by IVs. Then she had fallen asleep and woken up in a private hospital room with Chuck looking over her. She heard the door open and close and knew Chuck had returned.

"A nurse will be in every hour or so to check your IVs and a doctor will come by later, but for now, you can rest comfortable," he told her. "They've been instructed to be as minimally intrusive as possible." Blair opened her eyes and gave him the best grateful smile she could manage when devoid of all energy.

"Thank you." Chuck sat in a chair that was too close to her bed to have been there before his arrival and took her hand in his.

"You're welcome," he said dismissively. "How are you feeling?"

"Weak," she answered truthfully. "Tired." He nodded.

"You were pretty dehydrated," he confirmed. "Dorota is still ranting about the lack of a proper electrolyte restorative in the Waldorf kitchen." Blair didn't smile. Dorota always had Gatorade on hand because she knew about the bulimia and when it had been at it's peak, she had often forced Blair to drink Gatorade to keep her hydrated, even if she couldn't get her to keep it down.

"What time is it?" she asked.

"Nearly one in the morning." She frowned.

"And I'm still here?" It was food poisoning, she reasoned. She could sleep it off in her bed just as easily as she could in a generic hospital room.

"Don't bother protesting," Chuck informed her. "The doctors wanted to keep you overnight for observation. Assuming you're properly hydrated and able to keep down a light meal in the morning, you'll be able to go home then."

"I'm never eating salmon again," she informed him.

"Salmon? What's salmon have to do with anything?"

"I was eating salmon when I got sick," Blair explained. "I'm never, ever touching the stuff again. Or any other fish for that matter. Sushi included."

"It wasn't the salmon that made you sick," Chuck told her. "Apparently you had eggs at breakfast with Serena this morning. The doctors said they had salmonella. The fact that you eat like a bird kept you from getting even sicker than you are."

Blair groaned. "Fine. I'm never eating eggs again." Chuck smiled at her dramatics. "I feel terrible."

"You look terrible." Blair glared at him.

"Thanks, Bass," she said with a sharp tongue.

"New leaf… honesty… it was necessary," he replied with a hint of a smirk.

"If I felt better I'd tell you exactly what you could do with this new honesty leaf of yours," Blair huffed. She squirmed in the hospital bed in an attempt to get comfortable while Chuck let out a short laugh. "Shouldn't you be in bed somewhere? You're running a multibillion dollar company now. That has to require some level of functionality."

"Like I could sleep when you're in the hospital," Chuck replied. He left out that he couldn't sleep anyway, not without either her or his trusty sleeping pills.

"You don't have to stay," she told him, secretly hoping he would. She didn't want to be alone in a hospital room.

"I know I don't." He kissed the back of her hand before he dropped it and moved around in the chair until he was as comfortable as he was going to get. The hospital issued chairs left something to be desired and he decided he was going to donate adequate visitors chairs if he was going to be spending as much time in hospitals as he had lately. "Sleep, Blair."

Blair was too tired to do anything else.

* * *

Peace and quiet. It was a rarity on the Upper East Side. There was always a scandal to either hide or uncover or a society event to attend. Rarely was there time to be still, to just sit in a favorite pair of well-worn pajamas in the safety of one's bedroom walls and read a book or maybe write a journal entry. When the opportunity arose, it was foolish not to seize it. With her mother and Cyrus in Paris and the hired help dismissed for the evening, Blair was free to just be.

Her stomach was still iffy at best. She had managed to keep down a bowl of chicken broth that morning so the doctors had agreed to let her go home. Chuck had stayed the night, sleeping upright in the chair next to her bed. Though he hadn't complained, she had caught him rubbing his neck more than once and knew he must have been stiff. Once he had been assured that she was free to go home and that Serena would be with her, he had dismissed himself, citing his usual excuse of business. She and Serena had spent most of the day in the media room, picking up their Sex and the City marathon from where they had left off. As much as she loved Serena, she was almost happy to see her best friend leave, eager for some time alone with a book and her thoughts.

She had been avoiding thinking about Chuck and where they stood. She had been pretending that Chuck was a sort of enigma, appearing when appropriate and making some gesture, be it as simple as putting a blanket over her while she slept or as grand as selling The Empire, to maneuver himself a little more in her favor. It shamed her to admit that it was working.

The thing she had realized a long time ago was that if it had just been the hotel and Jack, she would have likely forgiven him by now and allowed him the chance to fix their relationship. More than two months had passed since that fateful night and she thought she was finally moving past it. It still pained her that Chuck had betrayed her, but in a twisted way, she understood.

That was the problem with Chuck. He was the most complex human she had ever met. Every one of them in their tight-knit group had mommy and/or daddy issues. Her father had left her mother for another man and moved to another country. Her own mother had been at the root of her eating disorder, managing to convince her at the most impressionable age that she was not good enough. Nate's father was in prison, his mother barely a bleep on his radar. Serena's father had returned after years of nothing and her mother, who, while not a great one, had probably been the best mother out of their group, was dying. Even the Humphrey duo had parent problems. But Chuck's were in a whole new realm and Blair often thought she was the only one – except for maybe Lily – who understood how much Chuck was affected by his lack of parental influence.

Despite his claims, Blair knew Chuck had loved his father. She could remember when they were younger, how the other boys would talk about baseball scores or highlights from the Knicks game while Chuck could recite the previous day's stock market action nearly verbatim from the various news reports and the _Wall Street Journal_, just to impress his father. She knew his affinity for bowties and tailored suits had a lot to do with trying to mimic everything Bart Bass said or did. In Chuck's mind, being like his father was the only way to maybe get his father to feel – something – and to show him – something – in return. Calling that something love almost seemed too – personal. And the Bass men didn't do personal.

Chuck had never felt loved in return, regardless of how hard and awkwardly he had tried to return it, and so he had acted out, doing whatever he thought might garner his father's attention. Blair knew better than to believe Chuck's womanizing and drinking and variety show of drugs was anything more than a cry for attention. When that didn't work, he had switched up tactics, pitching his father Victrola, determined to impress him. Even a year after Bart's death, regardless of what Chuck said, he was still trying to impress is father. His actions with Jack were proof of that.

His mommy issues were a whole other volume in the Chuck Bass saga. He had lived his entire life in guilt, believing he had killed his mother, only to have a woman appear bearing a striking resemblance to the woman he had barely seen a picture of and who all the evidence seemed to point to as the real deal. Blair knew how she should have seen the warning flags the second the woman had appeared or at the very least, when Chuck had accepted her into his life so easily. Or at least easier than it had been for him to accept her. But she had wanted Chuck to be happy and she knew the one thing that would make him the happiest would be to have a parent – a real, blood parent - in his life and so she had only encouraged him, desperate to see him smile.

He was a labyrinth of intricacies, too afraid to love – or maybe, to be loved - yet now that he had experienced love with her, too afraid to be without it. He wanted success and power. He also wanted her. There was a way, she knew, for him to have both, but he had no idea how to strike the balance between work and a personal life. He was clueless about how he had made her feel when he would blow her off for business meetings or paperwork. He was blind to the fact of how often he had made her feel lonely, especially in the days leading up to Jack's reappearance. He had no idea how hard she had tried to be perfect for him. In the back of her mind, she knew it would crush him if she knew just how hard she had tried sometimes.

She was sitting on her bed, gazing out the window as the sky fell dark and the city's lights turned twinkled on, when the sound of soft footsteps registered. Her instincts told her it was Chuck. She could almost feel his presence, she realized, as he drew nearer. He tapped softly on her door.

"Come in!" she called, reaching a hand to her hair in a vain effort to make herself look more presentable.

"Hey," he said softly as he opened the door. "I um, thought I'd stop by, see how you were feeling." He had a plastic bag in his hand and his tie was loosened, the top button of his dress shirt undone. His hair was ever so slightly rumbled and his eyes had dark circles under them. He was, Blair realized, exhausted. She felt a pang of guilt for his staying at the hospital the night before.

"I'm better," she told him honestly. "Though you don't look so hot." Chuck shook his head and came forward, placing the bag on the edge of her bed.

"It's been a long day," he said. "Let's just say I had a moment of clarity about how to use my newly found CEO powers while watching you sleep last night." Blair narrowed her eyes at him.

"What are you up to?" she asked. She had a feeling it had something to do with her, even in a roundabout way.

"Eradicating the world from evil," he said dryly. "Don't worry, Blair. It's all legal and it involves a lot of paperwork. Depending on the mood I'm in when the time comes, it may require a trip abroad, though I might be convinced to hand that off to an associate."

"It's legal, but is it moral?" Blair countered. She gave him a knowing look. He gave a tired shrug.

"Depends on your definition of moral, I suppose," he answered. He opened the bag he had brought in and pulled out a plastic container. "Here, I brought you dinner." He held it out to her. She took it, but didn't open it.

"Thank you, but I'm swearing off food at least until tomorrow. I barely kept down broth at the hospital this morning. I'm not chancing it yet."

Chuck shook his head. "You're eating that," he informed her. "You're also eating at least some of this stuff." He pulled out a banana and a container of applesauce. "There's supposed to be toast too but it would get cold on the car ride over." Finally, he pulled out a bottle of ginger ale.

"I just had food poisoning and you bring me a feast."

"It's called the BRAT diet," Chuck said. Blair scoffed as Chuck realized how that sounded. "It's bananas, rice, applesauce, and toast," he amended quickly. "I told the hotel cook you had been sick and asked him to make something for you that would set on your stomach. This was what he came up with."

"The doctor did mention something about rice and applesauce," Blair admitted, remembering the conversation she had tuned out, eager by that point to be rid of the hospital. Between Dorota giving birth, her sprained ankle, and Lily's illness, she had been there far too much lately as it was. "I suppose this container is full of rice." Chuck took it from her and opened the lid.

"It's called congee. The cook said it was rice boiled down into a porridge. He cooked it with a little bit of chicken broth to give it some flavor and said you can add salt or soy sauce to it if you want. Apparently it's a remedy the Chinese swear by." Blair eyed the almost soupy mixture wearily, but was touched by the effort Chuck put forth. "It's still warm." Her mind made up, she reached for it.

"I'll see what I can do," she told him, wanting to appease him by sampling the meal. She took the spoon he was offering her sampled the conge. She was surprised to find it wasn't half bad, if not a little bland. Chuck sat at the end of her bed while she ate, largely quiet and attempting to disguise his frequent yawns. She ate as much as she felt safe consuming and sat the container of congee on her nightstand, along with the half eaten banana and barely touched applesauce. The ginger ale was flat, but she thought that was intentional as it did wonders to settle her insides going down.

"I'll put that in the fridge when I leave. You should try to finish it for lunch tomorrow," Chuck said.

"I will," Blair promised. She decided it was time to shift the focus to him. "You look tired. I told you you didn't have to stay with me last night."

"And I told you I knew I didn't," he replied. "I wasn't going to leave you in a hospital alone."

"You're exhausted."

Chuck gave a sarcastic snort in response. "That's not from sleeping in a hospital chair last night."

"Then what's it from? A wild bender you squeezed in between lunch and an afternoon board meeting?" She felt bad when a weary Chuck merely shook his head no.

"It's hard to fall asleep when there's a lot on your mind," he said. His voice was heavy. "Though sometimes I prefer lying awake to dreaming." Blair frowned.

"What do you mean?" Chuck shook his head again.

"Nothing," he dismissed her as he stood. "I should go. Are you going to be okay here?" Blair nodded.

"Thank you for dinner," she told him sincerely. He nodded once, scooped up her leftovers, and headed out the door. Blair listened to him descend the stairs and pad through the house to the kitchen. She strained her ears to hear the faintest ding of the elevator a couple minutes later. Once she was sure he was gone, she let herself fall back into her thoughts, specifically to the conversation she and Nate had been having when she had gotten ill.

For one, she was certain Nate knew more than he was letting on. For another, as much as she hated to admit it, Nate was right. Her and Chuck needed to talk. They had reached a point of almost stagnation. True to his word, Chuck was doing what he could to win her back, but she had yet to throw him a real bone. As much as she wanted to blame it on Chuck's inability to see what was wrong with their relationship before, she had to blame some of it on fear as well. Letting him get too close would be putting her in the position to get hurt all over again and she wasn't sure how many times her heart could be repaired after Chuck Bass finished breaking it.

It was time, though, for something to give. What it would be, she didn't know, but as she turned on the TV and found _An Affair To Remember_ on TCM, she knew it was time to find out. She would talk – really talk – to Chuck tomorrow, even if she had to schedule herself an appointment through his personal secretary to do so.

* * *

**Next chapter… Talking ensues… **


	15. Chapter 15

**I'm just going to throw a big 'ol disclaimer right here at the top. Or maybe it's a declaration, but I think in this case, it might just need to be a disclaimer. So declaration or disclaimer, here it is: I'm a happily ever after kind of girl. In fact, I'm probably just as into fairytales as Blair. As in, don't get me started on fairytales. I've got a whole philosophy on those things. But yes, keep that in mind as you read this chapter and the next one or two as well. Happily ever after. Trust me. Please, please trust me. **

**I think I've gotten back to everyone on reviews. I got a bit behind so if you reviewed the last two chapters, I've hopefully managed to reply to you at least for one of them. I'm going to attempt to do better this go around now that I'm in the full swing of things in my new city with my crazy busy internship. I really do love all of you for your reviews and favoriting and reading and… Well, I just love you all. True story. **

**THINGS I OWN: An inability to spell the word 'poisoning' without spell check. God bless spell check because I definitely spell it wrong every. single. time. THINGS I DON'T OWN: Gossip Girl.**

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* * *

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Chuck looked up expectantly when the office door swung open. Just as he had hoped, Andrew Tyler was standing before him, a folder in hand, wearing the look on his face Chuck had come to know meant he had been successful in his sleuthing.

"What do you have for me?" Chuck asked, already reaching for the file.

"Everything you requested and then some," Andrew said with an air of superiority. He was not only damn good at his job, but knew he was as well.

"And you got all of this under the table?" Chuck asked, flipping through the sheath of papers within the unassuming file. "There's no way to trace this back to me or Bass Industries?"

"None whatsoever," Andrew confirmed. "You are not the only one with enemies, Mr. Bass." Chuck wasn't sure what Andrew meant, but he didn't care. He trusted the man and if he said the papers in his hands were obtained by pure stealth, then so be it. Andrew Tyler had never steered him wrong before and with the salary he made, he doubted he ever would. There weren't too many private investigators that could afford to send all four of their children to prestigious schools like Constance and St. Jude's.

"Well done, Andrew. Expect a little something extra in your check this month."

"Very good, sir," Andrew replied. He fought the urge to bow. Like his father, Charles Bass, or Chuck as his friends called him, commandeered a certain level of respect. He watched the young man frown and instinctively knew another assignment was coming down the pipe.

"He still doesn't suspect anything?" Chuck wanted to know.

"Nothing," Andrew confirmed. "He was not pleased, of course, to learn you had returned to Bass Industries, but it seems he has decided to continue with business as usual in hopes that you stay far away from the land down under." Chuck smirked.

"I can assure you I have no intentions of staying away from the land down under."

"There is something funny about that man, Mr. Bass. People are near scared of him in his part of the world. And not because of his money or power. There's something almost sinister about him"

"He's an evil man," Chuck agreed. "Far more evil than even you know. Andrew, I want you to find out why my father put Bass Industries Australia in the hands of Jack Bass in the first place. My father was not fond of his only brother at the end of his life. Something happened, somewhere, and I need to know what that something was."

"Right away Mr. Bass," Andrew nodded. "I'll call you the moment I have news."

"Thank you," Chuck said, dismissing the PI with a curt nod. The door closed behind him and Chuck went to studying the documents he had delivered.

Watching Blair sleep off her food poisoning episode, it had occurred to him that he had an opportunity at hand to bring Jack Bass down. He was the CEO of all of Bass Industries, foreign and domestic, near and far. The ultimate decision on who was a part of his company rested on his shoulders. While he let HR take care of most other hirings, he had decided to take a more active role in who ran the other offices, particularly the one in Australia. The problem, however, was that Jack had done nothing to steer the company wrong and was, in fact, a model businessman. Or at least it seemed that way. Chuck's instincts told him otherwise, however.

Jack Bass was cunning, that Chuck knew first hand. Whatever it was that he had done was well-hidden, many times over. He was searching for Jack's weakness, the pressure point that would bring him to his knees. There was something there, hidden within the walls of Bass Industries Australia or maybe along the boundaries of Sydney, that he needed to find. He had allowed Jack to disrupt his life too many times, but not again. If nothing else, he was seeking revenge for Blair. He would die before he allowed Jack to harm her in any way ever again. Jack would die if he tried.

He stifled a yawn and reached for the venti Starbucks on his desk. He had never been much of a coffee drinker, but his sleepless nights – or groggy days if he had taken sleeping pills – had him using the stuff as a crutch to get through his days, sending his secretary out for the biggest cup of it she could find at least three times a day. Last night had been a particularly rough night, his thoughts full of both Blair and Lily, especially Lily.

Lily was sicker than ever. She had managed to sit at the family dinner table two nights before for their family dinner, but she had barely touched her meal, sipping on a glass of Pedialyte instead. Sores had formed in her mouth and it hurt her to even talk, let alone eat. She had wasted away in just the last week, her frail body a mere skeleton of the woman she once was. As much as he loved Blair, resolving his relationship with her was taking a backseat to preparing himself for Lily's death.

In an attempt to be optimistic, he reasoned that he had time to prepare this time, unlike with his father who was yanked away without so much as a warning shot. He would handle death better this time, no running away or binges. Blair wouldn't have to pull him from any ledges or see him out of control. It may have been a bit fiendish, but he also hoped Lily's death would bring the two of them closer together. He was growing restless with things the way were they were between them and kept waiting for Blair to give him an inch.

"Mr. Bass?" a voice filled his room through the intercom on his desk.

"Yes?" he replied after pushing the button.

"You're 2:30 is here." Chuck frowned. He wasn't aware of a 2:30 appointment. He opened the calendar on his computer and sure enough, blocked in right before his 3:30 board meeting, was a meeting with a 'Holly Hepburn.' He knew by the name alone that it was Blair. He sighed. She had made an appointment. That couldn't bode well.

"Send her in." He leaned back in his leather chair and tented his fingers in front of him, his eyes on the door. She breezed in with a fake smile on her face, dressed to perfection in a summer Chanel dress. "Blair," he greeted. "Or shall I say, Holly?" Blair took a seat in one of the chairs across from his desk.

"If I had let Carol use my real name, you would have likely called and canceled," Blair informed him.

"If I would have looked at my calendar again since early this morning, I would have seen your terrible attempt at disguising your identity and had Carol move your appointment up to lunch," he replied. "But to what do I owe the pleasure of you making an appointment with me? The only other times you've schedule an appointment involved role play."

"Oh you can rest assured that I'm not here to play the role of a seductress in an undone business suit," Blair informed him. "I'm here to talk. About us."

Chuck's throat went dry. She wanted to talk about their relationship, right there, right then. He wasn't ready for this conversation in the least. He didn't like the element of surprise and he would have liked to have had some sort of idea about what he was going to say. Talking was inevitable, but he had thought he would have been able to come up with a sweeping speech to win her over before he sat face to face with her.

"Blair, now isn't the best time," he managed to croak out, mind racing over all the things she could want to talk about.

"And why is that?" The sugary sweet voice she used should have tipped him off, but he was too busy trying to save himself from having this conversation – whatever this conversation was – right then to notice.

"I have a meeting at 3:30. I need to leave at 3:15. It's already," he checked his watch, "2:35. We need more than forty minutes to talk about us." There, he thought, a perfectly valid reason for them to put off talking. "Let's talk over dinner tonight. I'm done here around 6:00. You pick the place and the time and I'll be there."

Blair shook her head.

"I want to talk now," she said stubbornly. "It's time, Chuck. We need to do this."

"And I agree. But Blair, I have to attend this meeting. If you can't wait until this evening, maybe I can shuffle the rest of the afternoon around. But right now is not a good time."

"It's never a good time with you, Chuck," Blair huffed. "There's always a meeting or a business lunch on the agenda. This is important."

Chuck sighed. Blair came ready to argue. "Blair, I promise you that nothing is more important than us. But I cannot just blow off the board of Bass Industries. I'm the CEO. Things are different…"

"Or they're exactly the same," Blair interrupted. Chuck let his hands fall into his lap.

"What does that mean?" he asked, feeling exasperated.

"It means work always comes first with you. It's always 'I'll make it up to you' and then you dismiss me like the endless fount of do-overs you think I am." Chuck leaned forward.

"Blair, you know what my job entails…"

"And you have no idea what our relationship entails!" Chuck felt his patience for Blair's dramatics waning and fought to keep his cool.

"Blair, I'm not trying to dismiss you. And you are not an 'endless fount of do-overs' as you seem so fond of calling yourself. If I believed that, I wouldn't be fighting for you right now, I'd be waiting on my next do-over. But this meeting is important. I will call my secretary right now and have her clear out my evening. You can go to Bergdorf's for an hour or so, I'll even give you my credit card. Then we can meet at whatever place you choose and we can talk." It seemed like a reasonable proposal to him. If only Blair was the reasonable type.

"I don't want to go to Bergdorf's and I certainly don't want your credit card."

Chuck sighed and rubbed the space between his eyes in an effort to ward off the headache that was developing. He loved Blair, but it was hard to like her when she was like this. He stood, walked around the desk, and took a seat in the chair beside Blair, angling it so he was facing her. He reached out and put a hand on her knee.

"Blair, please," he started. "I'm offering to cancel the rest of my afternoon after this meeting so I can spend it with you, talking about things most guys run the other way from. And I'm Chuck Bass, I don't talk about this stuff at all. I'm trying to compromise with you here. You have to work with me."

He waited as Blair chewed on her lip, digesting what he was saying. Finally, she sighed in defeat.

"5:00 in the Shakespeare Garden at Central Park," she told him. "Don't you dare be late." Chuck nodded, certain he would be on time, early even. He sensed it was imperative that he be punctual.

"I won't be," he promised. "And thank you for compromising." He reached for his desk phone and pressed his secretary's speed dial number. "Carol, clear my schedule for the afternoon, everything after the 3:30 board meeting." He waited for her to agree before he hung up. "There. Done."

"I'm trusting you to be there, Chuck," Blair told him. "There aren't any excuses aside from death."

"I will be there," Chuck promised again. He stood again and started collecting what he needed for his meeting. Blair stood as well and started wandering around the office. He watched her out the corner of his eye, aware that she still gave him butterflies.

"You haven't redecorated," she commented, running her fingertips over the spines of the collection of business reference books on one of the bookshelves. She had only been in the Bass Industries building a handful of times and had been in the CEO office even less, but she remembered how impersonal the space had been. How very Bart Bass it had been. It bothered her a bit that it still was very Bart Bass.

"I've added a couple of personal touches," Chuck admitted, not quite meeting her eyes as he clicked print on a document.

"Such as?" Blair asked as she made her way behind Chuck's desk, studying the artwork on the wall, a modern piece with sharp edges that contributed to the office's cold atmosphere. She turned towards Chuck, waiting for an answer, but she found it for herself. She smiled and moved so she was standing next to him. "You have a picture of me," she said, a warm sensation growing in her belly. "And of Amelia and Lily."

"The women in my life deserve a prominent space in my new office," he said as she leaned closer to get a better look. She smelled like her favorite perfume and something that was strictly Blair. He wanted desperately to pull her into his lap and hold her until she forgave him. Instead, he printed another document and focused on how to streamline his meeting so he could get out sooner.

"Don't photos of the women in your life take away from the imposing big bad wolf persona Bass Industries has going for it?" she asked him with a small smile. He knew it meant something to her to see the photos on his desk.

"Maybe I'm going for a more - relatable – reputation these days," he told her, glancing up long enough to smile at her.

"What's this?" Blair asked, reaching for the file Andrew Tyler had brought in.

"Business files," Chuck said quickly, extracting the file from Blair but not before she had read the label.

"Bass Industries Australia business files," Blair replied, giving Chuck a look that told him she was suspicious.

"New York is world headquarters for Bass Industries. I run the show. It's only natural that I get material from our offices abroad."

"Or you're up to something. Something involving Jack Bass."

"And would you complain if I were?" Chuck asked, swiveling in his chair to look up at Blair.

"No," Blair admitted. "Not if it ruined the bastard." Chuck nodded once and stood, picking up the files he needed and stuffing the file on Jack in a drawer that locked.

"Come on. I'll walk you out." He offered Blair his arm and waited to see if she would take it. He was relieved when she did. He escorted her to the lobby, neither of them saying much during the elevator ride, their arms still linked together. "I'll see you soon," he said, leaning in to kiss her cheek.

"5:00," Blair reminded him.

"At the Shakespeare Garden," Chuck agreed. He put her in her car and headed for the boardroom, his mind racing as he tried to figure out what Blair wanted to talk about and what, exactly, he was going to say to her.

* * *

He was fifteen minutes early. He wasn't entirely sure if anything he had said in the meeting he had rushed out of made any sense, but he was fifteen minutes early and that had to count for something. Brownie points or whatever Rufus had said during Sunday's dinner when Eric had been going on about a date and the little gestures like holding a door that had made him swoon for the guy. Surely he got brownie points or cookie points or pie points or whatever the phrase they used in Brooklyn was for showing up early.

He spotted Blair before she saw him. He wasn't surprised to see her there already and suspected she had come straight there after leaving his office. He stood and watched her for a minute. It was like a scene from a movie, Blair the picture of beauty and grace, perched like the proper lady she was on the nicest bench in the park, a spray of pink, white, yellow, and purple flowers surrounding her. Even the location was movie-like, a romantic garden worthy of any love story, named after one of the literary masters himself. Except with luck, this love story wouldn't end in tragedy.

Despite the extra time he had bought himself, he still felt ill prepared as he walked towards Blair, his heartbeat increasing with each step. He had only felt nerves like this once before as he had stood waiting for her, gifts and heart in hand, hoping 'I love you' would be enough to erase the past and bring her back to him. Now, he wished 'I love you' was all it took to set things right. It was strange to him now to have ever feared saying those words to her.

He observed her as he got closer. She sat with her back straight, legs crossed at the ankles, her hands in her lap. To the casual passerby, she was flawless. But he saw how she played with the ruby ring on her finger, twisting it from side to side. Her heel bounced barely enough to be noticed unless one was looking for such things. She was anxious. It gave him an increment of relief to know he wasn't the only one.

"Though I promised to be on time, I hope my being early is acceptable," he said when he was close enough to be heard without shouting. Blair turned to him. He could see surprise mixed with relief mixed in her eyes. Surprise that he was there. Relief he had made it on time. It meant something bigger than he knew that he was there when he said it would be.

"Early is good," Blair replied. "To be honest, I was sitting here waiting for you to call and give me an excuse as to why you were going to be late. Or not able to come at all."

"I knew my being on time was imperative. I can't recall what I said to the board, but I got out of there in under an hour. I have to warn you now, though, that if something needs discussing tomorrow, it may be delayed while I sort out whatever mess I may have made while preoccupied with thoughts of why you showed up – with an appointment - demanding we talk. It's a bit unsettling when the girl you're trying to win back suddenly demands a conversation about your relationship like that." Blair sighed.

"I was a little hasty," she admitted. "I thought it was best to act while I still had my courage." Chuck sat down next to her on the bench.

"Why would you need courage to talk to me, Blair? You know you can tell me anything."

"We're talking about us, Chuck. I've come to learn that to be 'us' there has to be a certain amount of courage involved."

Chuck nodded in agreement. She was right. He had summoned every ounce of courage he could and willed mere strangers on the street to pass along some of theirs while working up the nerves to say I love you. It had taken a tremendous amount of courage for her to jump and trust he would catch her after he finally had. It would take even more courage now to fix what he had shattered.

"So what are we talking about, exactly?" Chuck asked. "Sadly, there is more than one place this conversation could start."

"I realized something last night, after you left," Blair told him. He waited for her to explain. "We're not making any progress, Chuck."

"I beg to differ." Chuck turned his body so he was facing her. "You let me be in the same room with you these days. Sometimes I get to hold your hand or kiss your cheek. You even let me talk, now. I call that progress." Blair smiled sadly and shook her head.

"That's not what I'm talking about," she told him. "I'm talking about how you are doing all these wonderful things – helping me study for economics and covering me with blankets and staying with me all night in the hospital room when I could have started puking my guts out again at any second, just because you didn't want me to be alone - and yet I still can't find it in me to trust you enough to let you get a little closer."

Chuck took his time digesting what she said before he spoke. He had wandered down that same line of thinking a time or two recently himself, wondering when he was going to make a breakthrough in his quest to win Blair back. He had chalked it up to needing to give things time to work themselves out, unaware that Blair was on the same page as him.

"Honestly, Blair, I thought my reception was deserved. I don't exactly deserve to be accepted back into your good graces with open arms."

"The thing is, Chuck, that if it were just Jack, I think I would have already forgiven you and we would be back to being Chuck and Blair."

Chuck frowned. Blair had mentioned over the phone that Jack wasn't their only issue. Then she had been focused on his dedication to work in his office earlier. Truthfully, he hadn't given much thought to whatever else was bothering her, his main concern being getting past their issues surrounding Jack. Apparently there was more to it, though, and he could honestly say he had no idea what more there was.

"What, besides Jack, is there?" he asked. "I hurt you. I can't take it back, but I can spend the rest of my life making it up to you. I know there are trust issues because of it, but we can work through that, Blair. I just don't understand what else there is that's wrong between us. We were good together until I went temporarily insane."

"That's just it, Chuck. We weren't good together," Blair tried to explain. "Don't you remember me telling you I didn't like the person I'd become with you?"

"Vaguely. However, that part was overshadowed by the phrase 'goodbye, Chuck,' to be honest." That was the truth. The moment she had muttered those two words, anything that had been said up to that point had been erased and he had gone into survival mode, leaving the reception with Vanya's cousin to ease the pain he was feeling, pain that had only been displaced long enough for him to realize he didn't want her and abandon the limo with her in it to being his weeks of scotch-induced haze and fake exotic flings. Now, he recalled what she had said that night with clarity.

"Chuck, I love you," Blair started. Chuck perked up. She had said those three words, eight letters. They had never sounded better. "I do. But before Jack ever happened, I was losing myself. I was turning into a stepford girlfriend, allowing you to put work and your own needs before mine…"

"No, I never put my own needs before yours," Chuck interrupted. "I may have been a bastard during our last days together, but never once did I put myself before you." He hadn't and he wouldn't allow her to tell him he did.

"So blowing me off for lunch dates or kicking me out of your penthouse – more than once, might I add, whether you directly said 'leave' or used such a sharp tongue I wouldn't dare stay – wasn't putting yourself first? Your business first? I wanted a half hour of your time to have a meal, Chuck, and half the time, you couldn't grant me even that." He opened his mouth to argue, but found that he couldn't.

Far too many times, he realized, he had left Blair waiting at a restaurant or changed their plans last minute. Half the time, when he did remember to call and say he wasn't coming, he had had his secretary do it, not wanting to be bothered with hearing her complain. And he admittedly had kicked her out of the penthouse a time or two, most notably on the anniversary of his father's death, but also while wearing next to nothing when she had merely come to surprise him with breakfast and sex.

"Fine. I'll grant you that point. But Blair, it was never intentional or because I was trying to hurt you," he said. "And you blew me off plenty of times, too. Remember the movie premiere? You were plotting a high school sleepover instead of spending a somewhat glamorous evening with me."

"I was lonely," Blair defended herself. "I was miserable at NYU and had no one to talk to about it. I couldn't let my parents know I was unhappy, you were too busy with the damn hotel or a club, or whatever your project was at the time. Serena was in the midst of finding herself or her affair with Tripp or both. Nate… Well, I'm not even sure what Nate was doing, but he wasn't around either. I was lonely and miserable and had nowhere else to turn, so I turned to what I knew."

"You could have turned to me," Chuck argued. "I was there, Blair. I tried to get you to come with me to that premiere, remember? And if I remember correctly, I made a rather grand speech, reminding you of who you are and that I love you."

Blair sighed.

"I don't want to fight," she told him. "I want to figure out how to work this out."

"Let me back in. It's that simple, Blair. Let me have the chance to make this right." Simple may not have been the correct turn, but Chuck knew he could win her trust if she would just let him close enough to do so.

"I can't just let you back in, Chuck. I don't feel safe. We aren't safe. I couldn't even believe that you would show up here today, let alone be here on time. How am I supposed to believe you won't hurt me again if I trust you with my heart once more?"

"How am I supposed to believe you won't hurt me again if I trust you with mine?" he countered. The words left his mouth before he realized he was saying them. The look on Blair's face told him she was as surprised by his words as he was.

"When have I hurt you?" Blair asked. Chuck looked at her, perplexed that she didn't see herself as having done anything wrong over the course of their relationship.

"Does my kissing that Ellis guy over a damn speech ring a bell? If it doesn't, maybe the time you slept with my uncle will." Chuck heard the venom in his voice, but suddenly didn't care. Suddenly, he realized with sharpened clarity that Blair wasn't the only one who had been hurt in this relationship. While his wounds may not run as deep as hers, they were there and she needed to know it. Trusting people wasn't his strong suite anyway, and trusting her was one of the hardest things he had ever done, only to find he couldn't quite trust her at all.

"You kissed guys before," Blair argued. "You said so yourself. And I apologized and you forgave me. And Jack… That was a mistake. Before we were together and while you were doing your very best to push everyone and anyone away, myself included. And let's not forget about you sleeping with Vanessa."

"You were going to sleep with Jack again," Chuck reminded her, ignoring her reference to Vanessa. "Regardless of whether or not I set it up, you went there on your own, with every intention of sleeping with him again. You think knowing that doesn't hurt me? Do you think knowing the woman that I love was willing to take her clothes off for another man doesn't cause me any kind of pain?" He saw Blair blanch and knew he had metaphorically slapped her in the face. He didn't care.

"I went there for you," Blair said in a small voice. "Everything I did, from encouraging you to trust Elizabeth to going to Jack, was for you."

"I would have rather you not been so generous," Chuck said dryly. "It would have saved me a lot of trouble."

"What about you?" Blair asked. "You were sadistic enough, manipulative enough, to offer up your girlfriend, who you claimed to love, for a one night stand in exchange for a wretched building."

"I sold that 'wretched building' for you," Chuck reminded her. "And I don't need you to remind me that I was wrong to sell you out to Jack."

"When will you see that it's not about the damn hotel?" Blair fumed. "It's about you, taking me for granted and exploiting the fact that you knew I would go to Jack if I thought there was a chance in hell in saving something that meant everything to you, even if it meant sacrificing everything I believed in."

"You said you would stand beside me through anything. The hotel and Jack? That was anything. And where are you now? Not with me. I may have lied, Blair, but so did you." Blair looked at him as though she couldn't believe she was hearing what he was saying.

"You know, I came to you today, hoping we could talk and work this out, try to find a way to move on together. But I can see that I'm wasting my time. We both are." Blair stood and the defenses Chuck had put up fell away as he realized Blair was about to walk away, this time for good.

"Blair, wait," he said, standing. He reached for her hand. She tried to pull away, but he held on firm. "Don't walk away from me. We love each other too much to just give up." He felt his heart breaking all over again as Blair's eyes filled with tears.

"Love isn't enough," she told him. "Not when neither of us can trust the other."

"I'm not giving up," he told her, forcing his voice to be firm. Inside, he was cracking.

"Well I am," she told him. "It hurts too much to keep trying." She tried to pull her hand away. He held on. "Please, Chuck. Let me go." Her eyes met his as she pleaded silently. Slowly, he loosened his grip until she was free to pull her hand away. She turned and walked away without a word. He sat down on the bench and buried his face in his hands, the confusion swirling in his head making him sick to the stomach.

* * *

It was late when he returned to the penthouse. It was late and he was drunk. His eyes zeroed in on a photograph of he and Blair sitting on a bookshelf. He walked over, picked it up, and threw it as hard as he could. It shattered against the wall and fell to the floor. A few moments later, the door to Nate's bedroom swung open and a shirtless Nate and scantily clad Serena appeared.

"Chuck, what's going on?" Nate asked.

"I'm done," he told Nate. "I'm done with it all." He turned, staggered into his bedroom, and passed out across his bed, but not before he had thrown another picture of him and Blair and sent the box of jewelry she had left behind, the Erickson Beamon necklace included, clattering to the floor.

* * *

**Happily Ever After. Say it with me: Happily Ever After. **


	16. Chapter 16

**I have completely loved reading how everyone interprets Chuck and Blair's relationship after the last chapter. It's such a mixed bag. Some blame Blair. Some blame Chuck. Some blame them both. And that, my friends, is the beauty of their relationship. If you're bored, go read some of the reviews from last chapter. There are some highly insightful thoughts in there. Hopefully this chapter will help shed some light on things from last chapter, but this is sort of part one of two in a way, Chuck's part coming next before we REALLY move into the nitty gritty and get the scene I am DYING to share with you all. **

**And yeah, it really is updated just a day after the last one. I haven't had a chance to reply to reviews yet – that's on the docket for tomorrow – but I thought you all may just prefer to wait a day more on those in exchange for an update. Call me craz, but it was just a hunch I had. But nonetheless, THANK YOU to all of you who read and review. I adore you beyond words. 3 You all make me feel like a legit rock star. And I love boys with guitars. I mean rock stars...  
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**In this update, you will find my vision of 'prince charming.' It's not what you might think…. **

**THINGS I OWN: A collection of Johnny Cash and June Carter Cash books and photos that I adore. THINGS I DON'T OWN: Gossip Girl **

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There were a lot of things she loved about France, but her favorite thing was, perhaps, that it was not New York. Whether she was in Paris, shopping to her heart's content, or in the French countryside at her father's vineyard, she felt a sense of escapism, as though reality was merely an extension of her existence, paused and waiting for her to step back into it when she deemed it fit.

That was why she was now in France, seated by the large picture window in her bedroom at her father's chateau, Cat perched in her lap as she stroked him lazily. She had taken a seat hours ago after a jovial dinner with her father and Roman to watch the sun set over the vineyard. Long after the last rays had faded into the horizon and the first stars had appeared, she was still there, her room dark and her thoughts full.

It wasn't running away, exactly, she had told herself frequently throughout the course of her French holiday. Harold and Roman had been pestering her for a visit and it was high time she paid them one. The fact that she had hopped a plane a mere two days after Gossip Girl had caught her walking away from Chuck Bass, tears in her eyes, his head buried in his hands, was merely coincidental.

Her visit to France had nothing to do with the hysterics that had overtaken her once she had returned home either. She had brushed past Cyrus and Eleanor who had just returned from Paris themselves, citing exhaustion, and had barricaded herself in her room where she could have an undignified breakdown, but that was not what had driven her to France two days later.

At first, she had been angry. How dare Chuck Bass accuse her of hurting him when he had done such vial things to her? How dare he tell her yet again that she had gone to Jack on her own? Most importantly, how dare he turn everything around so it was her fault? She was not the reason they were no longer together and she would not accept being referred to as such.

Slowly though, the anger had ebbed away and her presence of mind slowly returned. It became clearer then that Chuck was right. He was not completely to blame. He was still shouldering the bulk of what had happened between them – it was, after all, mostly his doings – but she did have some share of blame as well and that was not something she had been prepared to realize.

She had tried to sleep after pulling herself together, but found it impossible. She had gone to her medicine cabinet for her sleeping pills and not remembered until she had pulled everything out and looked in every drawer of her vanity that she had left them at Chuck's. With a pang, she realized her Erickson Beamon was also there, tucked away safely in her jewelry box on Chuck's dresser after she had worn it to a gala to raise money for Doctors Without Borders. For some reason she couldn't understand, she wanted it desperately in that moment.

It was masochistic, but she went to her closet and pulled a box down from one of the highest shelves and sat down on the closet's floor with it. It was full of memories. The books he had bought her one rainy day in the Hamptons when they had had nothing better to do but wander around a small used book store. Picture upon picture of both them and of Chuck, some framed, some loose, thrown unceremoniously into the mix. The _New York Times_ article she had clipped and saved when he had bought The Empire. The feature that had ran on him in _Fortune_. Ticket stubs and event programs, a seashell he had picked up for her in Nantucket. The dress and slip she had worn that night at Victrola.

She took the slip out and held it to her nose, inhaling. She hadn't worn it since that night and even though it had spent endless months hanging in her closet before being tossed into the box, she swore she could still smell him. Him. The limo. Smoke. Victrola. It was the slip and dress that sent her over the edge.

All she had ever wanted was a happily ever after. She wanted someone to love her and take care of her and who she could love and care for in return. With Nate, it had seemed as though that perfect fairytale was going to come true. She was the beautiful princess poised for queendom and he was the handsome prince set to take over the van der Bilt throne. But the epic love she had read about and seen in movies had never existed between them. They had loved one another on some level, and still did, but it was a friendship kind of love, not the stuff Disney movies were made of. With Chuck, it had been, as he had so aptly put it, fireworks.

Nothing about her and Chuck made sense. She wasn't supposed to fall for the bad boy, let alone someone from new money. But she had and in the end, she had thought it was more of a fairytale than she and Nate had ever been. She was still the poised princess, but she had saved the dark knight from a lifetime of self-loathing and helped reform him into the man he had always been capable of becoming. With Nate, she had always fancied herself as Aurora, asleep until her prince charming came to rescue her. With Chuck, she was a sort of Belle, falling madly and hopelessly in love with the Beast. Except she, of course, was not the daughter of a poor inventor.

The Beast, like Chuck, had even tried to push Belle away, but Belle had continued to fight and had won. Blair liked to think she had fought for Chuck, but in the end, she had lost. They both had. Her heart, which had just begun to mend in recent weeks, had shattered all over again in the Shakespeare Garden. It was ironic, really, that her love story had came to a final close in the place named after the master of tragic romance. Then, in a moment of weakness as she thought about how her life had spun so far away from the carefully laid plan of just a couple years ago, she had risen from her closet floor and floated towards her bathroom, taking pause only to toss the slip to her bed.

As she had kneeled before the one constant she had in her life from the time she was fourteen, the sink water running, she had willed herself to stop, to stand up and return to her bedroom, attempt sleep once more, this time clinging to her slip.

As she had pulled her hair over one shoulder and out of the way, she had thought of how disappointed her mother and Dorota would be if they found out, how Serena did not need to deal with her best friend relapsing while her own mother faded away.

As her finger approached her throat, she had thought of her promise to Chuck, to come to him, regardless of how things stood between them, if she decided to do this to herself.

Once she flushed the evidence down the toilet, she sat against her tub and for a while, listened to the sink water rushing through the tap and down the drain. She wouldn't dare call Chuck. Not after everything that had transpired between them. But the guilt of what she had done, both minutes early and to - and for - Chuck, overwhelmed her. She had to get away. She pulled herself up, brushed her death, and returned to bed, the slip lost in the tangle of her blankets.

She lay there until morning light broke. Then, she had stood and mechanically dressed for the day. When the clock struck 8:00, she picked up her cell phone and began a succession of phone calls.

The first went to her doctor, whom she talked with for a half hour and set up an appointment to come in later that day. The next, after she had successfully composed herself, went to Serena. She asked her friend for her permission to go to France for a couple of weeks to visit her father, saying she would stay if Serena needed her to. Serena encouraged her to go, almost, Blair realized later, too enthusiastically, and after she had promised Blair to call her right away if something happened with Lily while she was abroad, she had hung up.

The third phone call went to her father and Roman. She had cheerfully asked if they would like house guest for a few weeks and they had been all too delighted to accept, if not a bit perplexed when they learned she intended to fly so soon. Her final call had gone to her mother's assistant who she still used to make her own travel arrangements. Then, she had gone downstairs and informed Eleanor and Cyrus that she would be leaving the next day, telling them she wanted to visit her father before Columbia started and before Lily passed because she would absolutely not be able to leave Serena's side then.

At first, France had been just the escape she had planned it to be. She spent her days exploring the vineyard or the cute local shops and her evenings dining with Harold and Roman. They had ventured into Paris for a long weekend where she had shopped from nearly sun up to sun down between taking the time to play tourist with her fathers despite the fact that they had all been there numerous times before. She had even flirted a bit and was certain more than one of the vineyard workers had developed an attraction to her, but she merely found enjoyment in knowing she could wield a certain power over them.

But then, as the novelty of being anywhere besides New York wore off, her mind starting traveling back to all the reasons she had fled New York in the first place.

She was determined not to fully relapse for starters. She hadn't told anyone aside from her doctor, but she had discussed why she had been drawn to relapse at length during her appointment before leaving New York. It had gone back to control, just as it always did. She had resumed journaling, a practice she had abandoned once she had had her eating disorder fully under control. She wondered why she had stopped now, always feeling lighter when she had written down her thoughts and feelings for the day. Her doctor had also agreed with her trip, saying some time away from her 'triggers' would do her some good.

She was also thinking about Chuck, far more than she cared to admit.

As much as she wished she could pin all of her trust issues on Jack, she knew their mistake had come before that, Jack being the icing on the cake, the straw that broke the camel's back. She hadn't trusted Chuck when he had said I love you outside the Plaza. She had questioned whether or not she could believe him when he had reappeared, but he had said she could believe him and then he had said I love you and that had canceled out everything else she had been thinking or feeling right then, too full of disbelief and relief that he had finally admitted it.

She didn't trust Chuck because he had never shown in Tuscany. She didn't trust Chuck because he hadn't been able to say I love you at the White Party. She didn't trust Chuck because he had left in the middle of the night after his father's death. She didn't trust Chuck because he had told her it was all a game and that everything that had happened between them had been for nothing. She didn't trust him because he had ran away to Europe after graduation, even if he had came back with a confession of love.

She had gone into the relationship not able to fully trust Chuck. She should have realized her trust issues when they had been playing their games at the end of summer and she had found herself terrified that she wouldn't be enough. All the times Chuck had left her at a restaurant or not came home until late, citing drinks with an investor or dinner with a prominent hotel guest had, at least subconsciously, added up. She knew now she should have talked to him about her fears before things were too far gone.

For the first time though, she was realizing Chuck had trust issues as well. It was something she had known, of course, but she had never thought those issues had pertained to her. She had thought she was perhaps the one person, with possibly Lily and Nate being occasional exceptions, that he trusted inexplicably. She was, she realized, wrong.

Chuck had as much reason not to trust her as she did not to trust him. There was the triangle with Nate, for starters. She had gone back to Nate more times than she should have and it had hurt Chuck a little more each time. She had manipulated him on more than once occasion, dangled both Nate and Lord Marcus under his nose. There was also the fact that he had trust issues to begin with, thanks to his parent issues. And as ashamed as it made her to admit it, she had slept with his uncle.

The logical thing would be to let go and move on, but things had never been logical between the two of them. They would never been completely out of one another's lives, especially as long as Serena and Nate were a couple. Unless, of course, Chuck took off again. It wouldn't surprise her if he did once Lily passed away. That was his modus operandi after all. Deep down, she desperately hoped he would stay. She needed him to stay.

It was nearing 10:00 at night, but in the New York, it was 4:00 in the afternoon. She finally stood from her chair, Cat dropping to the floor in the process, and moved to her bed. She sat cross-legged in the middle of it and dialed Serena to check in.

"Hey, S," Blair said when Serena answered. "It's me."

"Hey, B," Serena greeted. It was quiet in the background. "How's France?"

"Beautiful," Blair answered. "We made wine a few days ago. It won't be ready until after I'm gone, but daddy and Roman promised they'd ship me some of it. It took two days to scrub the grape stains off my hands." She didn't add that it was nice to just enjoy herself and laugh with two people who meant the world to her. "We'll have to have a girl's night when it arrives."

"That sounds great," Serena said. Blair could hear the exhaustion in her friend's voice.

"How is everything, S? Be honest."

"It's – the same," Serena answered. "I keep waiting for something to change, but it doesn't. It's a blessing and a curse each day that it doesn't, I guess."

"Oh, S," Blair sighed. "Do you need me to come home? I will. I'll be on the next plane out of here." Blair meant it too. All Serena had to do was say the word.

"No, stay. Enjoy your time with your dad and Roman. You don't get to see them nearly enough. Trust me, B, you will never regret spending time with them" Tears threatened Blair's eyes. Her best friend was encouraging her to spend time with her parents because she now knew how precious the moments with the people you love the most were. That was another thing that was both a blessing and a curse. A blessing to learn the value of those moments, a curse to have to lose a loved one to see the light.

"How is everyone doing? How is Lily?"

"Everyone is – well, some are better than others," Serena said. "Mom is a little stronger than she was before you left. The sores are gone so she's eating better, but still not nearly enough. She talks a lot though, wanting to hear all about our days and our lives. I'm hanging in there. Nate has been great. He's hardly left my side since you left, whether he's actually here or texting or calling me. Which, I'm going to assume you may have had something to do with."

Blair smiled. "Maybe," she agreed, recalling how she had threatened Nate with bodily harm if he weren't there for Serena in her absence, not that she had ever doubted he would be. It had just felt like the proper thing to do, issue a threat on her best friend's behalf. Serena would have done the same for her. Already had, in fact, as she still wasn't speaking to Chuck to Blair's knowledge.

"Eric seems to be doing okay. He's got a new boyfriend that's actually pretty great and he's been hanging out with, well, anyway, Dan is being very – Dan – about all of this and Jenny is working almost around the clock for your mom. Rufus…"

"Still won't leave your mom's side," Blair answered. She had found herself growing fond of him over recent weeks, even if he did make her eat waffles despite her protests and gave her orange juice from a carton. His love for Lily truly was what love stories were made of and Blair still prayed despite the odds that their story would have a happy ending. Someone in their circle deserved to get one.

"The only time he does leave her is when she asks him for something. Sometimes I think she sends him out on errands just to get him some fresh air. He doesn't leave willingly." Cat jumped on the bed and settled next to Blair once more. She absentmindedly ran her fingers through his fur.

"Are you sure you don't need me to come home, S?"

"No, Blair. You only have a few days left over there, right? You'll be home before you know it. And I promise I'll call if anything were to change."

"If you're sure," Blair replied. "I'm coming straight to wherever you are when I land though."

"Sounds good. Nate is wonderful, but he's no Blair Waldorf. And he's got his hands full with – other stuff – right now too."

"Of course he's not me. I'm prettier," Blair replied in an attempt to lighten the mood. She ignored the other stuff comment. "I'll talk to you later, S. Call me if you need anything, no matter what time it is."

"I will. I love you, B."

"I love you too, S."

Blair hung up and fell back on her pillows, pulling Cat with her so she could cuddle with the cat who always seemed to remember her and love her unconditionally when she was there. She thought about what she had learned from her conversation with Serena that had gone unsaid as she stared at the ceiling and listened to Cat purr.

Some people were doing better than others. That mean Chuck wasn't fairing too well. Eric was hanging out with – the subject change meant he was hanging out with Chuck, probably a good thing. And Nate having his hands full was again related to Chuck. A wave of guilt washed over her as she thought about not being there for Chuck. She took her phone out once more and texted Nate.

_How is he? _

Only a few minutes passed before she got a reply.

_Sober and with Lily for now. _

_Then? _she replied.

It was longer between texts this time.

_Scotch. Lots of it. _

Blair sighed and put down her phone. She crawled under the covers, allowing Cat to curl up on her spare pillow. She fell asleep much later, torn between being there for Chuck, moving on, and wondering whether or not he would let her near him in the first place should she decide to go there again.

* * *

The vineyard was her favorite place to waste away the hours. She had taken to settling on a blanket under a large tree with a book and Cat in the afternoons. From there, perched on top of a sloping hill, she could look out over the rows of grapes and countryside and get lost in the tranquility of it all. That was what she was doing on her last full day in France while her father prepared a special going away dinner, complete, he promised, with his pumpkin pie, even if it was nowhere near Thanksgiving.

Tomorrow, she returned to her expanded reality. Tomorrow, she had to face a dying Lily and a struggling Serena. She had to face Chuck at some point, however he was doing, whatever he was doing. She had admittedly checked Gossip Girl earlier, but there had been no Chuck Bass postings in more than a week, the only one since she had been in France just a short drabble saying he had been spotted buying cookies at Lily's favorite bakery.

She was still no closer in resolving how she felt about Chuck or what she would do when she saw him again. She had texted Nate again the night before and had learned that Chuck had passed out quite early in the evening, having taken the whole afternoon off to go to a doctor's appointment with Lily before downing a bottle of bourbon after realizing he was out of scotch.

"Ma belle fille," came Roman's voice. Blair turned to look over her shoulder at her stepfather walking towards her. "Vous semblez triste."

"Hi, Roman," Blair answered, turning back to face the vineyard. Roman took a seat beside her on her blanket. "I was just thinking about Serena and Lily and the rest of their family."

"It is a very sad time for them," Roman agreed. "Your father and I plan to fly to New York should anything happen to Lily. She has been a good friend to your father over the years."

"You mean when," Blair corrected. "It's inevitable, Roman. Even if we wish and pray it weren't."

"While there's life, there's hope," Roman replied.

"Cicero," Blair said with a small smile.

"You know your Roman philosophy, I see, smart girl that you are," Roman observed. "Cicero was a very wise man. As long as Lily is in this world, there is hope, Blair."

"It's hard to hope when things are so far gone," she confessed. She felt Roman's eyes on her as she looked out over the vineyard, trying to ignore his knowing eyes. He had always had a knack for picking up on her moods better than most. Only Chuck and Serena and her father and Dorota had been able to do better.

"Is it Lily that is far gone or is it something else?" he asked her. "Or rather, someone else?"

Blair sighed.

"I don't want to talk about it," she said.

"Then we won't. But you should know your father and I are more observant than you give us credit for. As happy as we are to have you here, we know you did not come merely to see us before school started or Lily passed away. We were quite surprised to hear you even planned on leaving Serena's side during all of this. The only thing we could figure that could budge you away from the girl that is nearly your sister would be a boy. We heard it from your mother that you and your Chuck are no longer a couple."

"Chuck and I have been apart for nearly three months," Blair told him. "It should be getting easier, but it doesn't."

"The pair of you have always reminded me of Johnny and June Carter Cash," Roman said.

"Who?" Blair asked, turning to look at him. Roman smiled fondly and shook his head.

"You kids have no idea what good music is," he said. "I'm talking about Johnny Cash and his wife, June Carter Cash. They are country music icons. Johnny was known as the Man in Black and June used to sing with her sisters and then on her own and with Johnny."

"What do Chuck and I have to do with two old country singers?" Blair asked. "And how do you know so much about country music singers anyway. You're French!"

"I am a fan of music, my Blair, and just because I am French, does not mean I cannot appreciate a fine country tune, though I prefer the older stuff, the stuff that built rock n' roll. But I digress. June Carter Cash, she was a strong woman. A good woman. She wasn't a saint, but she rarely strayed far from the straight and narrow. When she did stray, she always found her way back before too much time had passed."

"You're implying that I'm no saint," Blair stated, a bit offended. Roman raised an eyebrow at her.

"Are you?" he asked. Blair didn't answer, giving him all the answer he needed. He continued with his story. "Johnny Cash, he was a good man too, eventually. He had a rough life growing up. His father was a tough old man and his brother, who was his best friend, died in an accident. Johnny went on to sing and be wildly successful, but he was far from a saint. He had a drinking problem and an even worse drug problem. He declared once that he had tried every drug there was.

"But Blair, he fell in love with June. I think he fell in love with her a long time before he told her so, well before he was even first married, when he had only heard her on the radio and nothing more. He married twice before he married June. He asked her several times before she finally said yes. See, she wouldn't marry him until he cleaned up his act."

"She gave him an ultimatum," Blair said, more enchanted by the story than she was letting on.

"Not exactly, but I suppose that's one way of looking at it. Johnny claimed to have had a spiritual epiphany of sorts when he went to a cave to commit suicide. From then on, he walked the line – to borrow a line from one of his songs – and he and June lived a happy life. They died just four months apart. She went first after complications from a surgery. They say he died because of poor health, but I, like many others, believe he grieved himself to death and went to join his June."

Roman finished his story, but Blair still didn't understand why he had told it to her.

"Why do they remind you of Chuck and I?" she asked.

"Because Johnny was a severely flawed man, but despite his flaws, he loved June with every piece of his being. And that, Blair, is how Chuck loves you, you, who like June, are a good though not perfect person. And June loved him right back just as fiercely, flaws and all, just the same as I suspect you love Chuck."

Blair nodded, the pieces slipping into place.

"Chuck really hurt me, though," she said softly. "I can't just forgive him."

"Can't you?" Roman countered with a raised eyebrow. Blair swallowed. Maybe she already had. At least on some level.

"What good is forgiving him if I can't trust him?" she asked, clinging to any thread of reason to keep her heart safe.

"Trust is a delicate thing," Roman mused. "You must trust and believe in people or life becomes impossible."

"Now you're quoting Anton Chekhov," Blair said dryly. "I can't trust Chuck if I can't trust myself."

"And there, belle fille, is your answer." Roman looked rightly smug. Blair felt like a light had suddenly popped on. She had to trust herself before she could trust Chuck. And to do that, she had to take a leap of faith. She had to have faith in not just Chuck who needed to learn the same lesson she just had, but herself as well. She needed to believe that even if she did jump and there was no one there to catch her, she would still land on her feet.

"How did you get so smart?" Blair asked Roman.

"Oh you know us Frenchmen. Hopeless romantics," Roman said with a wave of his hand. "Come belle fille. Your father should have dinner ready. Tonight, we eat, drink, and be merry. Tomorrow, we face the world."

Blair nodded and allowed Roman to help her to her feet. She linked arms with him as they strolled back to the chateau, Cat at their heels. Her life waited for her in New York, where questions hung thick in the air and a fragile game of chess was underway, all of them pawns on life's chessboard. But tonight, she would spend one last night enjoying her break from the reality she had momentarily stepped away from.

* * *

**See? Who needs a prince charming when you can have a Johnny Cash? A man who, despite his imperfections, loves you fiercely. I mean, prince charmings are great and all, but it would get boring riding around on a white horse. Unless he wanted to bring me new shoes all the time... Anywho, a Johnny sounds good to me. Particularly if they play guitar and have either a southern or English accent... I'm rather enchanted by Johnny and June... **

**I don't speak a lick of French – took 8 semesters of Spanish between high school and college and don't speak that so hot either, come to think of it - but according to Google Translator, **** 'belle fille' means 'beautiful girl' and Vous semblez triste is 'you look sad.' Any of you who speak French (and I know at least a few of you do!) please correct me if Google has led me astray. :)  
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	17. Chapter 17

**Your update will continue shortly. First, a semi-long AN that I'm going to apologize for in advance. **

**FINALLY. I am so so so so so so sorry that it took this long and I can almost promise it won't happen again. I say almost because you never know, but I intended for it to not take this long ever again. I had a bit of – not writer's block, per se, because I knew exactly what I wanted to happen, but it was getting it to come out right that was the problem. And then we had one of the biggest events of the year in the industry I'm interning/planning a career in going on all this week and sleep was a rarity, let alone time to write. But finally, here we are, Chuck's side of things after their big fight in Central Park. **

**Next apology: I haven't replied to reviews for the last two chapters. I'm going to cop out and do a big blanket THANK YOU here because I just don't think I can catch up, which I'm soooo not complaining about because the number of people who read/review this story is amazing and I love you all. I would rather not have the time to answer all the reviews than be caught up, if that makes sense. THANK YOU SO MUCH for all of your reviews. Love to all of you! Thank you all so much too for your continued support and for putting me on your alerts and favorites. I love each and every one of you. True story. Thank you too to all of you who sent me sweet PMs, making sure I was still writing/alive. I love you all! Lots of thanking and loving going around right now, eh?  
**

**THINGS I OWN: A serious weakness for boys with guitars which nearly did me in multiple times this week. You have no idea. THINGS I DON'T OWN: Gossip Girl**

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There was silence. The sound of a Wii baseball game filled the penthouse, but it was the silence, mingled with an undertone of tension, that filled the room. There was always silence between them these days. As they sat on opposite ends of the couch, Nate engrossed in his video game, Chuck in his scotch, it seemed as though the other didn't exist.

It was this way most evening now. Either Nate or Eric was always there and Chuck knew they were essentially babysitting him, making sure he didn't do anything too foolish. Nate left him alone for the most part, maybe asking if he wanted to play a video game or for his opinion on what movie to watch, but Eric chattered endlessly about everything from the weather to his new boyfriend. For this reason, Chuck preferred the nights Nate was on duty. It was easier to ignore Nate, pretend Nate wasn't his appointed guardian since Nate technically lived there too. Their nights were spent in relatively silence and Chuck for one was okay with that. Tonight was just another one of those nights.

Nate, entirely involved in his baseball game, stood and swung hard at the digital ball coming towards him on the giant flat screen. Chuck rolled his eyes as Nate cursed the pitcher for the strike he had just thrown. Chuck swigged his scotch and watched Nate resume his position to bat again.

"Shit!" Nate cursed as the word 'Strikeout!' blazed across the screen before announcing that the other team had won by a run. "I almost had them! Bases loaded, a full count…"

"Beaten by a computer," Chuck drawled, deciding he was bored with the silence and would engage in another pastime – taunting Nate. "Given your pedigree and the amount of money spent on your education, one would assume you were at least intelligent enough to beat tiny digital men at baseball."

"I'm playing at a pro level," Nate countered defensively. "Grab a wand if you think you can do better."

"I'm seeing three balls on the screen, sometimes four if it's a curve ball. I don't think I would make a formidable opponent." He took another sip from his glass as though to prove his point.

"You have a point," Nate agreed. He turned his game off, pissed off at it for the evening. He pulled open the cabinet doors housing their combined DVD collection. "What do you want to watch?"

"Don't care."

"You never care," Nate commented, selecting a DVD. He put it in the player and pushed play before returning to his designated end of the couch.

"I cared once. Didn't turn out well."

Nate sighed to himself. It was one of those nights where Chuck made depressed comments while downing glass after glass of amber liquid. Those were the nights he waited in vain for Chuck to pass out. He much preferred the nights where Chuck disappeared into his bedroom early and was sound asleep, sometimes with a leather-bound book on his bed, sometimes not, when he would peek in to make sure he wasn't dead later. He was a lot more tolerable on those nights.

"I think now might be a good time to put the scotch down," he told Chuck, aware that it would be falling on deaf ears but figuring he had nothing to lose by trying. He felt obligated to at least half-heartedly try and talk Chuck out of some of his vices if he was on Chuck Bass duty. Eric probably would have already tried, but Eric seemed to have an easier time with Chuck than he did.

"Still half a bottle left," Chuck answered before downing the last of it in his glass and reaching for the bottle once more.

"Come on, Chuck. I know you're going a rough time right now, but this isn't going to fix anything."

"Does a pretty good job actually. You should try it, Nathaniel. Might help loosen you up some. To think you used to be fun." Chuck put the cap back on the bottle and settled back against the cushions with a full glass once more.

"Blair is coming home tomorrow."

Nate hadn't meant to say it. He had meant to retort that Chuck used to not be half bad to be around either. He figured Chuck already knew Blair's arrival time and flight number anyway. But he could tell from the look that crossed Chuck's face he hadn't known. And that he wasn't prepared for her return.

"Let the record show that I, Chuck Bass, was not the one to flee the country this time." He punctuated his statement by draining his full glass of scotch. Nate made a face.

"What's your plan?" he asked. Because Chuck Bass, even when down and out, always had a plan.

"Avoidance," Chuck answered. He reached for the scotch bottle yet again. Nate wondered how pissed off Chuck would be if he tried to take it from him, but decided not to find out. As mad as he was at Chuck for the things he had done lately, it was still hard for him to watch Chuck self-destruct.

"You can't avoid her forever, Chuck. She's Serena's best friend. Serena barely leaves Lily's side and we both know when Blair gets back, she won't leave Serena."

"Serena avoids me. So by avoiding me, she will open it up for me to avoid Blair. It's a simple plan, Nathaniel, one I didn't even have to concoct. Do try to keep up."

"Would you stop insulting my intelligence this evening?" Nate snapped, growing irritable.

"Only if you stop making it so easy," Chuck answered in a bored tone. He continued to swig his scotch. Fed up, Nate decided he didn't care if Chuck got mad at him. Their friendship had long been at odds as it was and one more fight wasn't going to matter at this point.

"You need to lay off of this stuff," he said, grabbing the bottle of scotch off the table. He took it to the kitchen and dumped it down the sink. He heard the echo of glass on glass when the bottle landed with the others already in the trash can.

"You can take the scotch if you want. I have a whole bar full of suitable substitutes," Chuck told him, looking over his shoulder at Nate.

"You realize your options are limited if you keep this up, right? You'll end up either drink yourself to death or you'll die in an accident caused by your inebriation. You need to do something different, Chuck. This is getting old," Nate stated, his tone serious. He had grown tired of Chuck's antics as of late and tonight, Chuck's usual smarmy comments and affinity for drinking had pushed Nate's already too tightly wound mind over the edge.

"Look at you, trying to be a hip version of Dr. Phil with hair. But alas, Nathanial, I'm Chuck Bass," Chuck answered, spreading his hands in front of him.

"And look how well that working out for you," Nate retorted, pulling Chuck's words from earlier.

"See, not being Chuck Bass is what got me to this point," Chuck explained with a roll of his hand. "Chuck Bass doesn't do relationships. He doesn't give a damn that his so called best friend thinks he's drinking too much. And he certainly doesn't care that his ex-girlfriend is flying back from France tonight. She's no longer worth his time."

Nate studied Chuck, trying to pin point where, exactly, his best friend had gone so far off the rails. Really, there had been no one specific time that pushed him over the edge but rather a build up of moments and events over the years that had turned Chuck Bass into a cynic with an unhealthy taste for scotch. Whatever had happened with Blair before she left had essentially been the kick when he was down. Chuck Bass had reached a new rock bottom and Nate wasn't sure he would recover from this one.

"Listen to yourself," Nate said. "Who the hell are you?"

"I'm Chuck Bass," Chuck repeated smugly. Deep down, he knew he was being a jerk. He couldn't bring himself to stop however. It felt good to turn the steady barrage of self-loathing he endured day in and day out on someone else for a change, even if he was doing damage he wasn't sure he could fix later.

Something in Nate snapped. He had played doormat to Chuck's Italian loafers for their entire friendship and while there were certainly perks to being Chuck Bass's right hand man, the perks had been outweighed by the burdens for quite a while. He was tired of picking up the pieces that Chuck refused to let be put back together by anyone, even Blair. He had tried over and over again to be a good friend to Chuck but it had gotten too hard.

"You know what Chuck? Go ahead and drink another bottle of scotch. Maybe you should switch to whiskey. Bourbon. Tequila. There's plenty to choose from. Drink it all. I don't give a damn anymore. I'm leaving. But a word of advice: if you're going to do this, if you're going to resurrect the old Chuck Bass, then stay the hell away from Lily. She doesn't need to see you like this. Stay away from her, stay away from Serena, and stay away from Blair. I may have hurt Blair while I was with her, but you've destroyed her."

"Blair knew what she was getting into when she decided to call me 'boyfriend,'" Chuck reminded Nate, masking the sting of how much it had hurt when Nate called him out on how he had broken Blair.

"You know, I don't think she did," Nate replied. "I think she thought you'd changed. You sure did fool her though, didn't you? All she ever did was love you. She doesn't deserve any of this." He turned and walked out of the room, slamming his bedroom door behind him.

Chuck had developed quite a nice buzz, but in the wake of Nate's words, he was stone cold sober. He sat frozen on the sofa, Nate's last two sentences ringing in his ears. Sounds of drawers opening and doors closing filtered into the living room as Nate packed his things to leave. Chuck vaguely considered going into Nate's room, attempting an apology. He would never admit it, but he didn't want Nate to leave him too. But instead, he sat where he was, scotch gripped loosely in his hand, his mind unable to consider anything else than the fact that Blair had muttered the same phrase – all I ever did was love you - through tear-filled eyes the night everything fell apart. He hadn't considered the gravity of her words until now.

His entire life, he had simultaneously sought out love and pushed it away, deeming it too good to be true if his desires were ever fulfilled. He had wanted his father's love and approval more than anything, but had never received it. Or at least he had thought he hadn't, his father's journals daring to prove otherwise the more he read them. Lilly had loved him all along, but before he had been too hell bent on pushing her away to realize it. Elizabeth Fisher had managed to convince him she was the mother he so desperately wanted and he had allowed himself to let her get close, only to prove to himself why he never let people in.

Then there was Blair. She had loved him unconditionally, without rhyme or reason. She had had in Nate the perfectly stable guy who, while he may not have loved her as he should have, still loved her enough to make her happy. Yet it was him she had truly fallen in love with. He was the one she had fought for and believed in. She had truly had stood by him through anything until 'anything' became too much. What he had done to her hadn't just been anything. It had gone far past Blair's definition of 'anything.' She had said herself that she had never thought he would do his worst deeds to her.

As much as he wanted to be loved, and despite the fact that he had people around him willing to love him, it seemed he was incapable of receiving it, let alone giving it. He wished he were more like Eric, he decided, able to let people in even after they hurt him and still expect the best possibly outcome. The kid had tried to kill himself at one point and yet had found it in him to let the same people who drove him to that level of desperation – namely Lily and Serena – back in his life. Chuck had no idea how to do that and was too proud to admit it to anyone.

Nate came out of his room with a bulging duffel bag.

"I'll be back tomorrow to get the rest of my stuff," he said. "Try to refrain from changing the locks until then. And I meant what I said – stay away from Lily, Serena and Blair."

Chuck just looked at him as he searched his brain for something to say that would help Nate understand whatever it was he wanted Nate to understand. Nothing came to him though. Instead, he stood and walked into the kitchen to pour his scotch down the sink. Without looking at Nate, he went to his bedroom. He heard Nate leave and the familiar sense of loneliness was there to meet him. The penthouse suddenly felt much smaller. He reached into the box at the end of his bed, grabbed one of his father's journals, and headed for the rooftop, desperate to get away from the penthouse yet in no frame of mind to be around people. It was the one place he was sure he could be alone.

The view from the roof was breathtaking. New York City sprawled before him, lights twinkling and the hushed hums of traffic, sirens, and the nightlife barely reaching him so high above it. He allowed himself to think of bringing Blair to the roof, maybe to have a romantic dinner or just sit and watch the city below and the sky above, then came back to reality, where he and Blair weren't together and possibly never would be again.

It was easy to feel on top of the world from where he stood. Under other circumstances, he would relish the power of being high above the city, standing atop of everything he had created. But now, the view just made him feel lonely. Below him, millions of people rushed to and fro, all with places to go and people to see. He tried to remind himself that there was someone out there worse off than him, but it was hard to remember that when his own world was in ruins.

He missed Blair. He missed her desperately, far more than he would admit to anyone other than himself and maybe Lily. He missed waking up next to her and bickering with her over trivial things like where they were going to eat or what movie they were going to watch. He missed not having room in his closet because it was slowly being taken over by Blair's things. He missed her 'thinking of you' text messages during the day and her insistence that he eat breakfast. He just missed her.

He knew Nate thought he was spiraling back to his old ways. He wasn't, really. Or at least he was trying not to. He was just trying to figure out how to deal with everything, both with Lily and Blair, and turning to scotch was all he knew to do. He considered it an accomplishment that scotch and sleeping pills were the only vices he had returned to. It was far easier to deal with the guilt that consumed him if he were drunk or out cold thanks to his sleeping pills.

Blair had given him her heart. She had trusted him to keep it safe. He hadn't realized until it was too late just how hard it must have been for her to forgive him for his past transgressions and let him have the chance to prove he could be the man she believed he had it in him to be. He may have had his own trust issues, but really, aside from manipulating him into kissing a man, she had done nothing since becoming his girlfriend to make him distrust her. And he knew she had felt terrible for tricking him, her endless apologies proof of that. He, on the other hand, had done a whole lot to cause her trust issues.

He leaned against the ledge of the building, painfully recalling the night he was threatening to jump off of Victrola. She had asked him not to hurt himself because she wouldn't be able to stand it and yet here he was, hurting himself. He knew he had to stop, but it was easier said than done.

He reached into his pocket and took out the Erickson Beamon he had given her for her seventeenth birthday. That was the night he had confessed he had feelings to her, the night all of this truly begin, the night in his limo the precursor for what was to come. He had never told her, but given her that necklace was his way of given her his heart, just as her heart pin was to her. Even when they weren't together, she had still had his heart, even if it were kept in a box. He had seen it laying in the floor the morning after he had knocked the jewelry box to the floor and had been carrying it around in his pocket ever since. He wasn't sure why, but he couldn't bring himself to leave it behind. It felt wrong.

With a heavy sigh, Chuck looked around for somewhere to sit. His options were limited to the ledge, the ground, or the large air conditioning unit for the building. Making a mental note to invest in some furniture for the rooftop, he sat down on the air conditioner. After moving around some to get as comfortable as he was going to be able to while sitting on concrete and metal, he opened the journal he had brought out with him.

The first thing he noticed was that it was not the one he had been reading which is what he'd thought he'd grabbed. These entries were later, he realized, possibly the last of the journals. He flipped to the first entry and saw it was dated just a few days after Bart and Lily's wedding. Chuck had intended to read the journals in order, but this one, these last thoughts of his father, was too enticing and would likely tell him more than the drabbles he had read lately, mostly reference business deals and occasionally something Chuck had said or done which had served only to prove Bart had known more about Chuck's life than Chuck had given him credit for. He took a deep breath and started reading.

_It's ironic, really, that my first entry in a brand new journal is the first entry of my life as a newly married man. It's fitting – a new journal for a new life. There have been many women since Evelyn, but Lily has been the only one to capture me so completely. She will never be able to take Evelyn's place and I think she knows that, but she holds a special place in my life that no one else has been able to reach nonetheless. Hopefully that will be enough. _

_Our wedding was beautiful. Eric – such a kind child – was the vision of a gentlemen. I think there was something going on with Serena, possibly with that Dan she has been dating, but who's to know with her? She's been the model daughter lately, but her past does bear reason to keep an eye on her. It was Charles, however, that surprised me. _

_When I gave him the job of best man, I believe he thought it was so I could keep an eye on him, make sure he didn't mess things up. I may have played a role in conveying to him that was why I gave him the honor. But really, who else would I ask? He's my son, the one blood relative I have that I still claim as a Bass. He's the heir to all that I have and all that I will create. There simply was no one else more right for the job. _

_His speech at the reception was far more than what I expected. He's a young man, all of seventeen. I wasn't expecting such a moving speech. He sounded so much older than seventeen, so much more composed. Then, later, I realized it was the Waldorf girl. I saw Chuck and her dancing, sharing a kiss. I've always liked Blair and I've recently wondered if there were something going on between her and my son, though I had thought the girl was with Nate. _

_I've noticed a change in Chuck as of late. I suppose that has something to do with Blair. I don't know her well, but I know she is not like the other girls her age. She's – more something. More elite, perhaps. A bit like Charles. He has really stepped up lately, tried to grow up. I'm proud of him. I'm terrible at showing him, but I am. I'm hoping that, with Lily by my side, I can finally give him a real family. It will take time and I've got a lot to make up for, but I'm going to try. It's far past time for me to try. _

Chuck felt an odd tightening in his throat. He remembered those last days with his father well and even he had to admit that there was a subtle change. Bart was still hard on him and still expected the worse, but he had made more of an attempt at being a family. He couldn't help but wonder what would have been if Bart hadn't passed away. But the past couldn't be changed – if it could, he would have gone back and made sure to catch that flight to Tuscany with Blair – and now he had to do what he could to find his way in the present he had created.

He had no idea his best man speech had so much as registered with his father or that Bart had noticed his affections towards Blair. He had always thought Bart liked Blair, but to know he approved of her and the affect she had on him, even if it was from the grave in a way, meant a lot to him. It made him feel like he had done something right in the midst of all of his wrongs. He thought back to that best man speech, replaying the scene in his mind.

_My father is someone who goes after what he wants, and Lily van der Woodsen was no exception. In typical Bass man fashion his pursuit was direct, and at times not exactly subtle. _

He remembered his eyes meeting Blair's as she sat a few tables away and knowing in that moment that she was meant for him and he for her. He hadn't needed his cheat cards then, his mind made up to let Blair know how he felt once and for all.

_One thing I learned about my father's courtship of Lily is the importance of perseverance. That in the face of true love you don't just give up, even if the object of your affection is begging you to. _

Blair was the object of his affection then and even more so now. She had told him to give up, begged him to stay away. He had never listened before, whether they were fighting over Nate or because he had traded her for a hotel. At least he hadn't listened until their fight in Central Park. He had obliged her request since then, but it dawned on him that now was not the time to throw in the towel. She was as essential to his being as air and perseverance now, even with the odds stacked far against him, was key. She was, after all, his true love.

_And one thing I learned from Lily is the importance of forgiveness. She gave my father the gift of a second chance and in kind I watched him become someone actually worthy of that gift. _

Chuck vowed, not for the first time, but again for his own well-being, that he would be worthy of Blair, of her forgiveness, her love, and her trust, if she would give him a chance. Granted, it wouldn't be his second chance or even his third, but if he got one last chance, he would not need another one. He was sure of that.

_And one day I hope I__'__ll be lucky enough to find someone who will do the same for me. _

He had found that someone in Blair. She made him a better person and both of them knew it. He was a lesser man without her and he had proven that time and time again. He could only wish that she was a better woman with him, but he didn't see how that was possible.

He sighed and stood up. He closed the journal after reading just the one entry, a decision made. He was going to continue fighting for Blair, starting the moment her plane landed. He reached into his pocket for his phone, only to realize he had left it on the coffee table. He returned to the penthouse and found it where he had left it. His had nearly selected Blair's speed dial when the penthouse elevator opened and Nate walked out of it, duffel bag slung over his shoulder.

"Miss me?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at Nate's reappearance.

"I just forgot my phone charger. Don't worry, I'll be gone in less than two minutes," Nate retorted, already starting towards his room.

"No one is forcing you to leave."

Nate turned and looked at Chuck. Again, Chuck tried to find something to say. He settled on the truth.

"You know it's all a smokescreen, right?" he asked. "The parties and the hookers? I haven't so much as looked at another woman since Blair and while the party went on downstairs, I was up here, drinking by myself and letting the guilt of the things I've done consume me, just like I do every night once there is no work left to distract me. You might think I'm unaware of what I've done, but I can assure you, Nathanial, that no one – absolutely no one – is more aware of it then me."

Chuck didn't give Nate a chance to reply. He didn't have it in him to deal with anything more tonight. He turned and walked into his bedroom, shutting the door behind him. He sat on the end of his bed, took a deep breath, and dialed Blair. As he had hoped, it went straight to voicemail, her phone turned off while she flew over the ocean.

"Blair…"

He paused. He hadn't thought much about what he was going to say once he had made up his mind to call her. He wasn't really sure why he was calling in the first place.

"Blair, it's me. I'm probably the last person you wanted to hear from but I… I just needed to tell you…" Chuck fumbled for words, wondering why speech evaded him tonight. "Remember my best man speech at my father and Lily's wedding? I was thinking about that tonight after I read my father's journal entry from a few days after the wedding. He talked about you in it, said he liked you, that you were good for me. He saw us dancing, kissing. I think he knew my speech was inspired by you.

"You know, I didn't come to Tuscany because of something he said. I'm learning that there were a lot of things about my father I didn't know or that I was wrong about." He paused again, aware that he was rambling. "Blair, I'm not done. I'm not throwing in the towel on us yet. I probably should but something won't let me. And I just… Well, I just wanted you to know that."

Chuck hung up and laid back on the bed, his head full, yet his thoughts blank. He focused on the ceiling for a while, exhausted but not able to sleep. He thought about the sleeping pills in his nightstand and, after spending some time debating on whether to take them, sat up to change out of his suit. He decided he would wait and take the pills if he couldn't fall asleep after getting into bed. He had just finished unbuttoning his dress shirt when his phone rang.

An ominous feeling washed over him. His instincts told him the phone call was not one of good tidings. He stared at his BlackBerry, lying in the center of his bed as it lit up and rang out loudly. It was as though he were frozen, unable to pick up the phone and answer. It stopped ringing and Chuck let out the breath he hadn't realized he was holding only for it to ring again. This time, he forced himself to put one foot in front of the other until he was able to reach and pick it up.

The display read 'Rufus Humphrey.' His insides turned to ice and something heavy settled in his stomach. There was only one reason for Rufus to call him.

"Hello?"

"Chuck? It's Rufus." He sounded frazzled, worried.

"What happened?" Chuck asked. He cradled the phone between his cheek and his shoulder and started buttoning his shirt back up. He knew, without being told, that he was going to be heading to the hospital within the next five minutes.

"Lily took a turn," Rufus explained. "You should come to the hospital. I don't know much. The hospice nurse forced me out of the bedroom when the monitors started going off and then we were on our way to the hospital. I don't know what's going on. I think you need to be here though. Just in case."

Just in case. Those three words alone were foreboding without the thought of ringing monitors and hospice nurses.

"I'm already on my way," Chuck told Rufus, opening the door to his bedroom. He hung up and was pocketing his phone and wallet when Nate walked out of his bedroom, slipping his own phone into his pocket. The two stopped and looked at each other.

"I've already called a cab," Nate said after a moment's pause. "I figured it was late and it would be quicker than waiting for Arthur to get out of bed and bring the limo."

Chuck nodded once and pushed the elevator button which opened right away.

"I thought you were moving out," he said once they were inside.

"So did I," Nate answered. "Guess it was just a smokescreen."

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**Eh... Still not sure how I feel about this update, but it was LOADS better than the first several tries so I'll take it. :)**

**I keep waiting for Nate to just snap on Chuck. He can be a bit dense, but he has stepped up when he needed to, for the most part. And I kinda miss the Chuck and Nate friendship from season 1, just to throw that out there. Anywho… Next update: Chuck and Blair in the same room and we find out what happens with Lily. Stay tuned…. **


	18. Chapter 18

**Told ya it wouldn't be so long between updates! But let's not get cocky, just in case… The scene I've been excited about is FINALLY here! It's the last Chuck & Blair scene and I hope you all enjoy it. I've been waiting to write that since… Well, since I thought of it. **

**I am SO relieved you all liked the last chapter so much. I had my doubts because of all the issues I had with it, but hey, if you all liked it… I'll get replies out to everyone by the weekend, but until then THANK YOU as always. You all are just wonderful and I will sing your praises every time because, well, you're wonderful. So thank you.3**

**THINGS I OWN: A polka dotted pillow I'm a little too attached to for someone graduating college in December. THINGS I DON'T OWN: Gossip Girl**

**Get your tissues ready… I think. I cried while writing this so I figured I'd warn you, but maybe I was oversensitive? :)**

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She was out of breath by the time she burst through the doors of Lennox Hill Hospital. She bypassed the reception desk as she knew where to go by now, having spent so much time in the hospital lately for one reason or another. She fidgeted with the bracelets on her arm as she rode the elevator to the oncology wing, almost sick with nerves.

Nearly as soon as she had stepped off the plane and turned on her phone, Serena was calling. She had known before she answered that something was wrong. A tearful Serena had told her Lily had been rushed to the hospital and Blair hadn't hesitated to tell her best friend she would be there as soon as possible. She had paid a random airport worker to make sure her bags got to her mother's penthouse before jumping into the town car that was waiting for her and informing the driver they were now going to the hospital instead of the Waldorf-Rose residence.

On the ride over, she had scoured the messages and emails on her phone to distract herself. Most of them were irrelevant, an advertisement for an upcoming sale or a forward from Cyrus or Dorota, both of whom were fond of passing along emails they deemed funny or else threatened bad luck if they didn't send it to their entire friend list. Some were more important, like a reminder of when her payment for her fall semester at Columbia was due. She forwarded that one to her mother.

Her texts were mainly from Serena, expressing her excitement that Blair would be back in the States soon and asking if she wanted to get lunch and shop the next day. How quickly things had changed since those lighthearted texts had been sent. Her father had also texted her, asking her to let them know when she landed safely, even if it were late. She sent him a short reply of the affirmative. Roman had texted her as well, a simply 'Johnny & June' was all it said. She had managed a small smile when she'd read it, thinking back to their conversation in the vineyard. Then she had checked her voicemails.

Serena had called, just minutes after she had turned her phone off for takeoff, to wish her a safe flight home. Her mother had called and confirmed that a town car would be waiting for her at the airport, even though Blair had expected it to be taken care of regardless. She had breathed in sharply when the last message revealed Chuck's voice, calling her to say he wasn't giving up on them.

After dinner the night she had talked with Roman, she had lay awake and thought about Chuck and their relationship. She needed to understand why he had done the things he did. She deserved an explanation, a reason, regardless of twisted that reason would be. And Chuck, she supposed, deserved the chance to explain. He had tried before and she denied him. If both of them could set aside their stubborn streaks and talk like the two adults they needed to learn to be, maybe they could get somewhere, start to mend everything that had broken around them.

Her one fear, as she made up her mind to give Chuck one last chance to earn her forgiveness, was that he wouldn't want to give _her_ one last chance. She could admit her mistakes now, however hard it was for her to do, and wanted Chuck to know she accepted them. His voicemail had reassured her, but she had thought she would have some time to prepare herself for her next run in with Chuck. She wasn't ready to do this right now, fresh off a transatlantic flight. But what she wanted wasn't important as the elevator stopped and the doors open to the cancer wing.

"B!" came Serena's voice. Blair turned towards it and saw Serena standing at the end of the hallway with Nate, wearing pajamas and looking worse for the wear. Blair rushed to her, not apologizing for banging into a nurse as she went.

"S! I came the second I got off the plane," Blair exclaimed, enveloping her friend in a hug as she pulled her from Nate's side. Serena wrapped her arms around Blair's petite frame and let her best friend hold her.

"Thank you," Serena whispered. Blair just squeezed her tighter. She had a hundred questions, but she knew the moment to ask them wasn't now.

"Serena?" came Eric's voice. "Mom is asking for you."

Serena pulled away from Blair to look at her brother. Blair took in Eric's appearance. His eyes were red-rimmed and puffy and his face was tear-streaked. Jenny Humphrey materialized out of nowhere and put her arm around Eric. She led him past Blair, Serena, and Nate, exchanging a sympathetic look with Nate as she went. Blair begrudgingly felt her heart go out to the new Queen Bee, even if she still had a certain distaste for her. Jenny did have a certain closeness with Lily after all.

"I should go," Serena said, reaching for Blair's hand and giving it a squeeze. "You'll stay, right?"

"Of course," Blair responded firmly. There was no question as to whether she would be there or not. She reached to give her friend another hug. "I love you, S," she whispered.

"I love you too, B," Serena replied, holding back tears.

"Come on, I'll walk you to her room," Nate said, slipping an arm around Serena's waist. Blair stood and watched them go, her heart breaking for Serena while she simultaneously wished she could be there for Chuck the way Nate was for Serena. Maybe she could be. She would be if he let her.

She walked into the waiting room and stood awkwardly in the doorway. She glanced around, but Chuck wasn't there. Dan Humphrey was, Eric and Jenny, but no Chuck. Her options limited, she sat down beside Humphrey.

"Waldorf," he greeted.

"Brooklyn," Blair replied. They sat awkwardly, their normal banter with one another deemed inappropriate by both of their very different minds for the current occasion.

"Serena's with Lily?" Dan asked. Blair nodded.

"What happened?" she asked Dan. "All Serena said when she called me was that Lily was being rushed to the hospital."

"She's been getting weaker over the last several days, not eating," Dan explained. "She's been short of breath and sleeping a lot. I think she's been in pain, but she won't admit it. She's been bed bound for a while now and they hooked her up to some monitors a couple days ago to keep tabs on her vitals. They started tanking earlier and the hospice nurse sent everyone out. Then they called an ambulance and here we are." Blair sighed.

"That's not good," she said.

"Way to state the obvious, Waldorf," Dan replied. Blair didn't bother with a retort. She sat back in the hard, plastic chair and crossed her legs, waiting. For what she didn't know.

"It's going to be a long night so I think I'll get some coffee. You want any?" Dan asked, standing. Blair shook her head. Dan left as Nate walked in. He came and sat beside her, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

"How is she?" Blair asked.

"Serena or Lily?" Nate replied.

"Both."

Nate let out a long, deep sigh. "Lily is telling everyone goodbye. That should tell you how Serena is."

Blair sucked in a breath. She knew Lily's time was limited, but it was still hard to accept that she would be gone. Lily had her faults, but Blair had always been fond of her, particularly during the time Serena had been gone. Lily had called to check on her from time to time back then and Blair had always had a sneaking suspicion that Lily knew about her eating disorder. She had nothing but respect for Lily for the way she had taken in Chuck and became someone Chuck loved and trusted, an almost impossible task where Chuck Bass was concerned. While the death of Bart Bass had shook them all, the death of Lily van der Woodsen-Humphrey would reverberate much deeper. Aside from Chuck, they were all only loosely linked with Bart, Serena and Eric bound just a little tighter by marriage, whereas with Lily, they each had their own unique bond with her.

"Isn't there something the doctors can do?" Blair asked. "Money is no object. They know that."

"They've done all they could, Blair. All they can do now is make her comfortable."

The pair sat in silence for what felt like a lifetime but was really all of ten minutes, both thinking about Lily and the magnitude of the impending loss they were going to experience. Nate's mind was focused largely on Serena while Blair split her concerns between Serena and Chuck. She vividly remembered Chuck's behavior after Bart's death and she was terrified of a repeat performance.

"Where's Chuck?" Blair finally asked. "Shouldn't he be here?"

"He is," Nate confirmed. "We came over together. Lily called him in first and they talked for a while. He went outside when he came out of Lily's room, said he needed some air."

As though on cue, Chuck appeared in the waiting room entry. He looked awful, his eyes bloodshot and tired and his clothes rumbled. Their eyes met and Blair found herself chewing on her lip to stop herself from jumping up and wrapping Chuck in her arms. She knew, because she knew Chuck, that he was fighting the same urge. Nate seemed to sense it too.

"Dan said he was going to get some coffee?" Nate asked. Blair nodded, not taking her eyes off of Chuck. "I think I'll join him. Let me know if Serena comes back before I do." Blair nodded again. Nate stood and walked out of the room, squeezing Chuck's shoulder as he passed him. Chuck didn't acknowledge him, his eyes on Blair.

When Nate was gone, Chuck took a deep breath and walked towards her. Without a word, he became the third occupant of the chair beside her. Blair listened to him blow out another breath before he assumed the same elbows on knees position Nate had been in. Blair didn't speak or even touch him, but she remained next to him in solitary support. He knew that, their ability to communicate without words as strong as ever despite their time apart. Blair could feel the gratitude rolling off of hm.

Minutes and then hours ticked by. Rufus appeared occasionally with updates, sending Jenny and Eric home at one point and forcing Dan to go with them. Nate convinced Serena to go home for a few hours sometime around midnight. He tried to convince Chuck to leave as well but Chuck had only shook his head no, bringing Blair to realize he hadn't muttered a word since he had sat down. Blair had engaged in a silent conversation with Nate, letting him know she would stay with Chuck. Not too long after they left, Rufus had reappeared.

"Blair?" he said in a soft, tired, and cracked voice. Blair looked up from the outdated magazine she had been flipping through in an effort to ward off exhaustion brought on from jet lag. "Lily would like to see you," he told her. "She woke up from a nap a few minutes ago and she's feeling a little stronger right now. It's not visiting hours or anything, but the doctors are making an exception for Lily." Blair nodded and stood. She shot a worried glance at Chuck that Rufus didn't miss. "Just come get me when you're done," he said, taking the seat she had left.

"I will," she said, giving Rufus a small but grateful smile. It was nearing two in the morning and the hospital halls were virtually deserted. Her heels clicked loudly on the tile as she wondered what Lily would say. It was her goodbye, Blair knew, and she wondered as she pushed the door open to Lily's private room just how Serena, Eric, Chuck, Rufus, Jenny, and Dan had been able to do this because her courage was evading her.

"Blair," came Lily's soft voice. Blair's lip started to tremble as her eyes fell on Lily. In just the time she had been in France, all of three weeks, Lily was skin stretched over bones, her tone yellow and her eyes heavy. Blair thought she could literally feel the life slowly seeping out of the room.

"Lily," she choked out. She took a deep breath and tried to center herself, remind herself Lily didn't need to see her fall apart.

"Come here. Sit," Lily said in almost a whisper, weakly patting her bed. Blair obliged and perched on the edge of the bed, grasping Lily's thin hand in the process. "How are you, dear?" Blair scoffed a short laugh.

"How am I?" she asked. "I should be asking you that." Lily smiled weakly.

"You know how I am," she said. "I'm dying. It's quite depressing, but I'm making the best of it."

"Lily, you can't give up," Blair told her with conviction in your voice. "We need you. Rufus and Serena and Eric, they need you. And Chuck. Chuck especially needs you. He's already lost his own mother and Bart has only been gone a year and a half. Then there was that wretched woman who tricked him into believing she was his mother... Just… You can't give up, Lily."

Lily smiled at the impassioned impromptu speech that had just come from Blair.

"Sweetheart, I haven't given up. I've just accepted that, fight as I may, I'm not going to win this time. But I'm glad you brought up Chuck. He's part of what I wanted to talk to you about."

Blair shifted a bit on the bed. She should have known, she thought.

"Blair, I love you. I want you to know that." Blair nodded.

"I love you too," she said sincerely. "You've always been there for me, even if I didn't necessarily turn to you."

"You are rather stubborn," Lily agreed. Blair laughed despite the circumstances. "You've been such a wonderful friend to Serena, Blair, even when she didn't deserve it. I want to thank you for that. I'm more grateful than you will ever know that she has you in her life."

Blair's eyes welled up with tears and she didn't bother fighting them off.

"Serena is my sister," Blair told Lily. "She will always have me."

"I know she will," Lily nodded. She paused to draw in a ragged breath. "That makes things easier, knowing Serena will have people who love her around her when I pass."

"So will Eric and Rufus," Blair told her. She took a breath of her own. "And Chuck. If he will let us. The Humphreys too." Lily smiled.

"Blair Waldorf, admitting to liking the Humphreys. If I had my cell phone, I'd send a tip to Gossip Girl."

Blair laughed in earnest. "Don't tell anyone," she teased. Lily laughed too, but grew serious once more.

"Blair, I'm not worried about my husband or my children. At least not my children or Rufus's. Chuck, however, I am terrified for. He doesn't handle things like this well, not that anyone does, really, but Chuck worse than most. I know things aren't good between the two of you right now, but he needs you. Not just to help him through my death, but, well, because he needs you."

"You're right, things aren't good with Chuck and I," Blair replied. "Not at all. But I had some time to think while I was in France and, well, I would like things to be good between Chuck and I again. It's just going to take some time. Time and effort."

"He loves you Blair. So much. I don't think I've ever seen someone love another person as much as Chuck loves you. I know what he did, Blair. And I don't approve by any means. But I do believe he is utterly and completely sorry."

"You know?" Blair asked. "How?"

"Rufus and I were privy to the argument between him and Serena. It didn't take much to piece together what happened from it," Lily explained. Blair sighed.

"I know he's sorry," she admitted. "It's just hard to let him back in."

"Be there for him Blair. Promise me that you will be." Blair could tell Lily was growing tired.

"Of course I will," Blair told her. "If he'll let me."

"Make him let you," Lily told her in a stronger voice. "I've already dared him to push the people who love him away. Just – be there for him, Blair. And for Serena. Both of them will need you. Soon."

Blair nodded, tears streaming down her face. "Lily, I'm going to miss you. So much," she admitted. "And if I'm going to miss you this much, I can't imagine how much Serena and Chuck are going to miss you." Lily's own eyes sparkled with tears.

"Come here, dear. Give me a hug."

Blair leaned down and carefully wrapped her arms around Lily who tried to squeeze her as tightly as she could. With her weak arms, it wasn't tight at all. She remained in the embrace for several long moments before she finally pulled away.

"Get some rest, Lily. I'll see you in the morning," she said.

"You get some rest, Blair," Lily countered in a motherly tone. "I'm sure you haven't even gone home since you landed. I'm also willing to gander that Chuck is still here if you're still here after my daughter has gone home." Blair nodded in confirmation. "Make him go home. I'll still be here in the morning." Blair smiled, believing that Lily would still be there, that this was not their final goodbye. At least not yet. Lily was simply making sure she got the chance to tell the people she loved what she needed them to know before she was too weak to do so.

Blair left Lily's hospital room, her determination to work things out with Chuck strong. She walked into the waiting room and at first, smiled softly when she noticed Chuck had fallen asleep. She had always loved to watch him sleep, see him at complete peace. But a second look made her frown. Chuck was restless, squirming as he slept. She watched as he grew steadily more restless, his head thrashing from side to side. He started mumbling incoherently, the word 'no' coming out clear. Then he said her name.

"Chuck?" Blair asked, walking over to his chair. He continued to thrash about in his chair, still fast asleep.

"No, Blair, no," he muttered. Blair frowned in concern.

"Chuck," she said again, reaching out and gently putting her hand on his shoulder. "Chuck, wake up."

Chuck's eyes popped open with a start. They were frantic as they locked with Blair's own eyes. He looked at her for barely a moment before he suddenly stood and pulled her into his chest.

"Blair," he breathed, wrapping his arms tight around her. "Blair."

"It's okay," she said softly, wrapping her own arms around him. "It was just a dream. Everything is okay."

"They took you," Chuck mumbled into her hair. "They always take you. I'm always too late."

"I'm here. No one took me anywhere," she soothed, no idea what he was talking about. "It was just a dream." Chuck kept his grip on her, his face buried in her hair as he took deep breaths to calm himself. Blair could feel his heart hammering against his chest as she rubbed gently circles across his back, not really aware that she was doing it as her instincts.

"I'm sorry," he said in a hoarse voice as he finally pulled away. "I... Bad dream…"

"It's okay," Blair said again, her hands on his arms. She slid one hand down his arm and took his hand. "Come on. You need to get some sleep. We both do."

"I'm not leaving," he said instantly. Blair could tell he didn't have much fight in him though.

"Chuck, Lily is going to be fine, at least overnight. She wants you to go home and get some sleep. We'll come back first thing in the morning."

Chuck studied her. Blair knew what he was wondering – why was she there? Why was she holding his hand and rubbing circles on his back? She could have offered up an explanation, but chose to stand there and wait for him to voice his own questions or else give in and come with her. She watched the storm of his emotions growing in his eyes and felt how much he was hurting. She wanted to take it all away from him in that moment, make it her own, even if he had hurt her so deeply himself. It was, she supposed, what you did when you loved someone.

Finally, he silently nodded, relenting to the idea of leaving the hospital for at least a few hours. He kept her hand in his as he led them out of the waiting room and into an elevator. When they reached the lobby, Blair realized it was raining, a summer storm hanging over the city in the early hours of the morning.

"I'll catch us a cab," Chuck said. "You stay here." He darted out into the rain. Blair walked to the window and watched as he waited for a cab to come by. It wasn't raining too hard, but Chuck's dress shirt – she wondered vaguely where is suit jacket and bowtie were – was already soaked.

It dawned on her then that she was planning on spending the night with Chuck Bass. She swallowed back her sudden burst of nerves and tried to decide where they would go. She hadn't been to the penthouse since that night with Jack, but her mother and Cyrus were home and they would ask questions she didn't have an answer to when Chuck was there the next morning. It seemed as though fate were throwing her into the fire, forcing her to deal with everything she had escaped while in France within hours of landing back on her own soil. She was on a roll, she reasoned, so she decided she may as well face down The Empire Hotel while she had some momentum.

A cab stopped in front of the hospital and she went to the door. Chuck was there to meet her, using his body to shield her from the rain as much as he could. He held the cab door for her then slid in beside her.

"Where to?" the cabbie asked. Chuck looked at Blair, deferring to her. She held his gaze for a moment before turning to the cabbie.

"The Empire Hotel," she said. She sat back in the cab and looked out the rain streaked window as the cab began to move through the city and took a deep breath.

"Are you sure?" Chuck asked softly. "You don't need to…"

"I'm sure," Blair said, cutting him off. Chuck nodded at the sound of resolve in her voice and sat back as well. They rode to the hotel in silence, Chuck too tired to think, Blair giving herself a running internal pep talk to help her get through her return to the hotel. When The Empire finally came into view, her breath hitched. Chuck turned towards her, but she just shook her head no and turned to look out the window once more. She heard Chuck sigh and the thump of his head as he let it fall back against the seat.

When the cab stopped, Chuck got out first and allowed Blair to dart to the hotel door while he shoved some money at the cabbie. Blair stepped inside the luxurious lobby and took another deep breath. The lobby was empty except for the overnight receptionist behind the desk and the doorman, but even as she stood just inside the quiet lobby and waited for Chuck, she could hear the sound of her heels clicking on the floor and feel her gold dress swishing around her as she forced herself through the lobby to the penthouse elevator. She squeezed her eyes shut to dismiss the memory.

"Blair," came Chuck's voice. "You really don't need to…"

"It's fine," Blair said, cutting him off again. "I'm exhausted. Can we go upstairs now?" Chuck nodded and led the way through the lobby. There was more silence in the elevator. Blair gripped the railing along the back wall tightly while Chuck bounced a leg out of nerves and shoved his hands deep in his pockets. Blair wished the elevator ride would last forever, but of course, it did not and she was forced to step out into the penthouse.

The first thing she registered was how clean everything was. She had in her mind a vision of the place completely trashed, bras hanging from chandeliers and empty bottles of whatever poison Chuck or his guests chose scattered around the place. But, she reminded herself, the hotel was no longer Chuck's, at least not on paper. Maybe the new owners had imposed some sort of standard.

The boxes stacked neatly in a corner were the next thing she noticed. They were moving boxes, but Blair couldn't see anything missing that would be in the boxes, leading her to believe they were still empty. She wondered in the back of her mind if Chuck had found a place to stay yet, but didn't ask. It was a bit strange to consider him not living in the penthouse anymore, but she understood and more importantly, appreciated, why he had sold The Empire.

She walked further into the penthouse and was struck by how familiar it all felt. She had expected to see visions of Jack Bass pouring her a drink, taunting her with his hand on her knee, telling her it had all been Chuck's idea with a gleem in his eye, especially after what she had experienced in the lobby. Instead, she felt almost safe, as if she had returned home after too long of an absence. It was strange to be there again and yet it wasn't as uncomfortable as she had set herself up to believe it would be.

"You can have the bed," Chuck said, watching her nervously from across the room. "I'll sleep on the couch. Or maybe in Nate's room. It doesn't look like he's here."

Blair nodded and silently made her way to Chuck's bedroom. She pushed open the door and the sensation nearly overwhelmed her. The bedroom had been her favorite place in the penthouse, the scene of some of her favorite memories of them. They didn't involve sex for the most part, however, just simple things like lying in bed one morning watching it snow and being lazy with their phones turned off or Chuck waking her for an early exam with a kiss and a steaming mug of her favorite gourmet hot chocolate.

She walked over to the dresser she had claimed as hers and pulled the top drawer open, curious as to whether her things would still be there. She found she wasn't surprised when she saw her everything exactly as she had left it. She selected one of the two nightgowns she had there and disappeared into the bathroom to change. Even her toothbrush and the organic toothpaste she insisted on using were there, though, she noticed, the toothpaste was almost brand new. She smiled a little, remembering how she had caught Chuck more than once using her 'natural crap' and denying it. It appeared he had become a fan in her absence.

Once she had changed, washed her face, and brushed her teeth, she returned to the bedroom, half expecting to find Chuck there but not entirely surprised that he wasn't. He had been there though, the turned down bed proof of that. When she peeked out into the living room, she saw him sitting in a chair by the window, looking out at her favorite view from the penthouse.

"Chuck?" she said softly from the doorway. "I'm going to bed now."

He turned towards her slowly and nodded at her with tired eyes. "Sleep well," was all he said before going back to the view.

Blair climbed into bed and turned the light out, burrowing under the covers and tossing about as she tried to get comfortable. The bed, she realized, was simply too big to sleep in alone. She took one of the extra pillows and laid it long ways in the bed, hoping it would simulate another person. It didn't. Even though she was exhausted from her flight and everything that had happened since the moment she had landed, she couldn't fall asleep. She closed her eyes and willed herself to sleep, but it didn't work.

Thirty minutes or more passed and sleep continued to evade her, even as her eyes grew heavier. Frustration was settling in when she heard a creak from the living room, followed by the sound of footsteps treading softly. She listened to Chuck moving around in the other room and realized he was coming towards the bedroom. Sure enough, the double doors to the bedroom crept open and Chuck appeared.

"Blair?" he asked quietly.

"I'm awake," she replied, rolling over in the bed so she could see him. He sighed heavily and ran a nervous hand through his hair. Even in a pair of his best silk pajamas, he looked uncomfortable.

"Blair, I know we aren't together and that things are bad between us right now," he started. His eyes glistened with unshed tears. "But Blair, I need you." His voice broke and tears sprung to Blair's eyes as she sat up in bed so she could see him better. "Just for tonight, just for a few hours, can we please just pretend that everything is okay between us? I'm not asking you to have sex with me or anything. I just need you to hold me. Just for a few hours. Then, in the morning, we can go back to the way things are."

Blair looked at Chuck, floored that he was asking for her, admitting that he needed her. That alone was monumental in the world of Chuck Bass. He took her hesitation in answering to mean she was going to say no and hurried to plead his case some more.

"I know I don't deserve it. I know that, Blair. But I'm losing Lily and I got in a big fight with Nate earlier. Serena doesn't speak to me, I've already lost you… I just…," he trailed off with a halfhearted shrug. A single tear escaped his dark eyes and he quickly wiped it away, hyper aware of all the defenses he had just shed before Blair.

"Come here," Blair said softly but firmly as she pulled back the covers. "Lay with me."

Chuck moved towards her and gingerly climbed in beside her before she could change her mind, moving the pillow he noticed she had moved in the same position he moved it to every night in the process. He wondered if she was pretending it were him, the way he pretended it was her. Blair laid down as well and reached for Chuck. He settled his head on her chest and wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight.

"Sleep," Blair whispered. He felt her hands in his hair and sighed out of both exhaustion and a sort of contentment that came with having Blair by his side, if only for a few hours.

"I love you," he whispered as he drifted off. He was already asleep when she replied "I love you too."

* * *

**Next up? The morning after... And maybe some more tissues, depending on how things end up flowing... just in case you need to stock up... **


	19. Chapter 19

**New plan: I'm not going to say 'I'll update by…' again. Because when I do, that's when I can't get an update written to save my life. I couldn't log into FF for a few days and then things got busy. But finally, FINALLY, here's an update. A much awaited one at that (I think). We're nearing the end, just a couple more chapters left. But don't fret – I'll most likely write another one, specifically, one based off of the oneshot I wrote. **

**I've replied to nearly all of the reviews and PMs I've received. I still have a few sitting there to reply to, so if I haven't gotten to you yet, you'll hear from me very shortly. And a shout out to comewhatmay – she sent me the SWEETEST PM. Thanks, love! And thank you all for being wonderful, for reviewing and reading and being amazing… Thank you! **

**THINGS I OWN: An inclination for crying my eyes out over Extreme Makeover Home Edition. THINGS I DON'T OWN: Gossip Girl. **

It was warm.

That was the first thought he registered as he emerged somewhere between a deep, restful sleep and waking to face a new day. He was warm, comfortable, well-rested and fairly certain he wasn't alone. There was a familiar fragrance in the air, lavender and something else he had smelled a million times before but his mind was too foggy with sleep to think too much. Instead, he hovered in a state of semi-consciousness, relishing this newfound peace he was certain would go away if he opened his eyes and not too terribly concerned with the idea that he may not be alone.

It was a soft sigh some time later that pulled him closer to consciousness. The source of heat, so comforting against his side, shifted ever so slightly. The scent of lavender and…

Blair.

His eyes popped open as the familiar scent he hadn't bothered to label earlier grew stronger. It was lavender and whatever it was that was strictly Blair. She was still tucked into his side, sound asleep even as she shifted about. A lock of her hair slid over his shoulder, filling is nostrils with her essence.

He sighed with something bordering on contentment when he realized she was still there, the night before flooding back to him now that he was alert. He placed a soft ghost of a kiss on top of her head, careful not to wake her. He wanted to absorb the feeling of her next to him for as long as he could. Too soon, he knew, she would be awake and things would go back to the way they had been, just as he had promised her when he had asked – begged, he admitted to himself – her to hold him, be there for him, just for the night a few short hours ago. As long as she was asleep, he reasoned, he could still pretend it was the night before.

His BlackBerry, however, had other ideas. It rang out from the nightstand he had dropped it on the night before while pulling back the bed covers for Blair. He lunged for it as best he could, trying not to jostle Blair too much while answering it before it woke her. It was Nate which he took as a good sign. If it were about Lily, surely it would be Rufus, or maybe Eric. Not Nate.

"Hello?" he answered in a whisper. Blair sighed again but didn't wake up.

"Hey," Nate replied in his own quiet voice. "I know it's kind of early, but I thought I'd check in, see how you're holding up. Did you ever leave the hospital last night?"

"I did," he confirmed. "And I'm… Okay." He played with one of Blair's curls.

"You sure?"

"Yeah. Um, Blair is with me."

"Oh," was all Nate said in return. Chuck knew he understood.

"How is Lily? Has there been any updates? Any changes?" he asked. Blair stirred. He stilled all movements, even tried not to breathe too deeply to avoid waking her. He needed it to be the night before just a little longer.

"She's resting comfortably, to quote the doctor. There doesn't seem to be a need to rush over there right now." Nate answered. "I talked Serena into trying to get a couple more hours of sleep and breakfast before we head over."

"Okay. Good."

"Yeah."

Chuck made to hang up the phone but hesitated. He owed Nate an apology, but it was tough to get past his pride. Blair sighed yet again, a tell tale sign that she was nearing waking, and shifted in his arms. Her subtle movements reminded him that his pride had cost him plenty and losing one of his only friends wasn't something he needed to add to that running list.

"Nate, look… About last night…," he started.

"Don't worry about it. It's cool," Nate said, dismissing Chuck's apology.

"You were right, for the record," Chuck admitted.

"Yeah," Nate agreed. "I was." Just like that, in guy code, all was right between the two of them again. Chuck heard Serena call for Nate in the background. "I've got to go. I'll see you at the hospital later." He hung up and Chuck blew out a breath. Blair's hand slid across his chest. He picked up the curl he'd been playing with again and wished apologizing to her would be half as easy as apologizing to Nate had been. But he had so much more to make up for with her.

"How's Lily this morning?" Blair asked in a sleepy voice. Chuck felt his chest tighten. It was now the morning after. He only had moments left of holding Blair.

"Resting comfortably," he answered. He resisted the urge to wrap his arms around her and refuse to let her leave his side until she forgave him.

"And how are you doing?" Blair asked, looking up at him, head on his shoulder. Chuck smiled sadly.

"Right now? I'm okay. Ask me again when you get out of bed." Blair didn't reply. He decided he'd talk while he had the chance. "Thank you, Blair, for last night."

"You needed me," she answered with a subtle shrug. "I know how hard that was for you to admit."

"It's not just last night that I needed you," he admitted. "I always need you." Only the intimacy of the moment could bring him to be heart on his sleeve honest.

"We're a mess, Chuck," Blair stated, fingering the fine embroidery of the sheet pulled up around them. "Both of us."

"We are," Chuck agreed. "Frankly, I'm tired of being a mess. I want to clean house, put everything back in it's place, get rid of the clutter."

"Too bad Dorota only does real houses," Blair said. She was only partly joking. It would have been so much simpler if her trusted housekeeper could come in and do away with the heap of debris the recent months had piled on their hearts.

"I'd give nearly anything for a fiery Polish maid to sweep in here with her Hoover and dustpan and set all of this right," Chuck said. Blair didn't reply as he had expected she would. Instead, she remained where she was, idly drawing the same circle on his chest over and over, lost in thought. He wished the innocent touch of her gentle fingers didn't leave a trail of fire in their wake. It was going to make letting her go when she inevitably pulled out of his arms even harder.

"What were you dreaming about at the hospital last night?" she finally asked. "You kept saying someone took me and that you were always too late."

Chuck didn't answer right away. Instead, he took a few slow, deep breaths and reminded himself that the truth was critical in getting anywhere with Blair. Even if it meant admitting his weaknesses.

"I have this dream most nights," he started. "You're asleep in my bed in that damn Matthew Williamson dress and I'm not there. Men in fedoras, usually three of them, sometimes more, burst in and they take you. Sometimes you kick and scream and fight them off. Other times you call out for me to save you. Every single time, I get there too late. I get there, and the room is ransacked and your dress is on the floor and you're gone. Then I wake up sweating, panicking because I couldn't save you."

Blair looked up at him.

"You have this dream every night?" she asked.

"Most nights. Sleeping pills help." Chuck didn't tell her how many or how often he took them.

"What do you think it means?"

"I think it's my subconscious reminding me of how I've failed you," he admitted. "That's the part that makes me wake up in a sweat, knowing it's not just a dream."

Blair stayed silent. Before, she would have argued with him. She would have pointed out all the times he had been there for her, all the ways he wasn't a failure. Now, she couldn't reassure him. He had failed her. He had failed to keep her heart safe. Chuck sensed this. He sat up in bed, guiding her into a sitting position as he went.

"Blair, I'm not doing so well," he confessed.

"Given the amount of booze you drink and the apparent string of whores you sleep with, I would say that's accurate," Blair replied, her tone clipped. Chuck blew out a breath.

"I do drink more scotch then I should," he admitted. "But Blair, the call girls and parties you read about on Gossip Girl? All of that was another ploy of mine, a way to hide how much I've been hurting since I lost you. I never so much as laid eyes on any of those girls and I certainly haven't slept with any of them. I did foot the bill for those parties, but I never attended. It was my people who sent the fake tips to Gossip Girl."

Blair frowned. She had had her suspicions as had Nate, but Chuck had confirmed them. She hadn't been expecting him to admit anything unless confronted. "Why?" she asked. "Why did you go to those lengths?"

Chuck ran a hand through his hair. "Come on," he said, throwing back the blankets. "Let's go in the living room. This conversation doesn't need to take place in our bed." Blair watched Chuck get up and leave the room, the words 'our bed' ringing in her head, before she followed him, unsure what conversation they were about to have. She found the robe she had left there before joining him in the living room. He had already put a pot of coffee on, one of the only uses he had for the penthouse kitchen.

"What conversation are we about to have?" she asked, settling on a chair. Chuck sat down on the end of the sofa closest to her.

"The conversation we tried to have in Central Park," he answered. "Except without the fighting and walking off this time." Blair nodded.

"I can do that if you can," she said. Chuck quirked a half grin, not sure if Blair could actually do it or not, but willing to find out. "So, the hookers?" she prompted.

"They did come to the hotel," he admitted. "But I put them up in their own suite, let them order room service or have spa treatments, whatever they wanted. I just needed them to be here to make it appear that I was sleeping around."

"Why though?" Blair wanted to know. "Why would you make me think that you were going through hookers like a pack of thirty cent gum? You even left Dorota's wedding with another woman, just minutes after we'd broken up."

"I did leave the reception with another woman," Chuck agreed. "But I didn't sleep with her. I admit that was my intention when I left with her on my arm. But when we were in the limo, she leaned in and tried to kiss me. I couldn't go through with it. I made Arthur stop and I got out, told him to take her wherever she needed to go. I walked back to the hotel."

"Then why?" Blair asked again. "I need to understand that. Do you know how much it hurt me to read all those posts about the wild times you were having while I was heartbroken over everything that had happened between us?"

"Because I didn't want to let anyone see how much I was hurting," Chuck told her. "I didn't want anyone to know I was drinking myself into a stupor every night to forget about the things I did to you or the fact that when I woke up, I would be alone. I let my pride get the best of me. Again. And Blair, for the record, it wasn't exactly easy when I read the Gossip Girl blast about you on a date with some argyle-wearing ruby player."

"His name was Cameron," Blair said softly. "He was a weak attempt at moving on. Under other circumstances, I could have fallen for him. But all I could think about was you, you stubborn, prideful, scheming bastard."

Chuck smirked. Blair's words carried bite, but they also had a hint of affection behind them.

"Forgive my ego for inflating just a bit," he said. Blair scoffed and looked away from him which made him smile just a bit bigger. He got up and fixed two cups of coffee for them, remembering how Blair liked hers.

"Thank you," she said when he passed her her mug. Chuck took his seat again and they sipped their coffee in silence for several minutes.

"Why are you here?" Chuck finally asked. "Why did you stay at the hospital last night and why did you come back here with me?"

Blair held the coffee mug between her hands, gathering her thoughts. She hoped and prayed the words could form for her to tell Chuck everything swimming in her head.

"When I was in France, Roman told me a story," she started. "It was about a real life love story between Johnny Cash and his wife, June."

"Weren't they country singers?" Chuck asked. "I think there was a movie made about them a few years ago." Blair nodded in confirmation.

"They were," she agreed. "Roman said we reminded him of them. He said Johnny was a severely flawed man, but that despite his faults, June loved him anyway." Blair watched as Chuck followed what she said, seemingly understanding. "To make a long story short, he helped me figure a few things out about myself. Mostly, I need to trust myself before I can trust you. And that, despite all of your faults, I still love you."

He couldn't help himself. He smiled.

"You still love me," he repeated. Saying it out loud made it more real.

"And only God knows why," Blair muttered. "Stubborn ass."

"I guess the same can be said about me," he admitted, still savoring hearing her admit to still loving him and ignoring her name calling. "About the trust thing. I went into our relationship sure I'd mess it up. And then I did. I was my own self-fulfilling prophesy. I didn't trust myself not to mess it up and so I did."

"I need to know why, Chuck. I want to let you back in. I want us to make this work. But I need to know why. Why you – why all of this happened." There was a hint of desperation in Blair's words. She needed to understand why he had put her through hell before she could move forward. He hoped he could explain the twisted reasoning.

"Why," Chuck repeated. It was a loaded word. He blew out a breath and ran his hand through his hair. "I put everything I had into this place. You know the hours I spent on every small detail during the remodel and the measures I took to make sure this became one of the premiere hotels in the city. The feeling I got from seeing this place do so well… It was euphoric. The only time I've ever felt more of a high, natural or otherwise, was when I told you I loved you for the first time."

"I know this place means a lot to you, Chuck," Blair said calmly. "But, as selfish of me as it may sound, I thought I meant more."

"You do," Chuck said firmly. "Otherwise, I would have never sold this place."

"Can you understand why that would be hard for me to believe at the moment?" Blair replied.

Chuck nodded, a fresh wave of guilt washing over him. "I know it's hard for you to believe, but I can promise, if you let me back in, you will never doubt my feelings for you or your place in my life again."

"I would have helped you, Chuck. I would have done whatever needed to be done. And that scares me," she admitted.

Chuck tentatively stood up and moved so he was sitting on the coffee table facing Blair. He resisted the urge to reach out and take her hand, but he had to be closer.

"When Jack named his price, I wanted to say no. I was going to say no. But when I opened my mouth, I was agreeing, putting together a plan to get you there under the impression that it was of your own free will. I knew you would go and I knew you would go because you loved me. I was foolish enough to think we loved each other enough to get us through this. I told Jack as much when he turned the hotel back over to me."

"Maybe we do love each other enough to get through this," Blair said softly. Chuck gave her a small smile.

"I'd like to think so," he admitted. "Blair, I spent every minute of the hours leading up to the time you went to Jack, debating on whether to stop you or to intercept the package. Going to you meant admitting what I'd done. Or else, it meant being forced to talk about everything that had happened, whether I wanted to or not, and all I wanted right then was to forget about it all and get my hotel back. In my head, if I got the hotel back, everything else would go back to the way it was before too.

"Then Serena mentioned you weren't there. I ran up to your room, hoping, I guess, for some sort of sign that you had gone anywhere but to Jack, that maybe you really were playing that ridiculous game but you had left your Polaroid or something. But I found the box and the note inside, the dress missing. Even though I'd set it up that way, it still felt like something had punched me in the gut. I had no right to be hurt that you went, but I was. I guess I had hoped you wouldn't go, even if you thought it was the only way.

"I went to wait for you in the lobby after that. I sat there in one of those uncomfortable wooden chairs, avoiding the doorman's gaze and waiting for you, trying not to think about what Jack was doing to you." Chuck shivered a bit as he recalled the thoughts he had tried in vain to block from his mind that night.

"I almost went after you. After you slapped me and said goodbye. I almost turned and followed you. But I knew you didn't want to see me. I can't begin to describe how I felt when I left. Or in the days that followed. There aren't words to describe that kind of pain – that kind of guilt."

"I can explain how I felt," Blair said, a tear threatening to fall. "I was devastated." Her voice cracked. Chuck swallowed down the lump in his throat and rested his hand on her knee, unable to not touch her any longer. He was relieved when she didn't push him away.

"Blair, that night… Tell me what happened," he said. She shook her head. A single tear escaped her flooded eyes. She brushed it away quickly.

"No. It's not important. It's in the past."

"It is important," Chuck argued. "I need to know what happened. I need to know everything. I can't stand lying awake at night, wondering what happened between you and Jack. I need to know. Maybe it's masochistic of me, but I need to know what I put you through."

"You know nothing happened."

"Blair, please. Tell me." He watched as Blair inhaled. He could see her mind racing behind her expressive eyes. She didn't want to tell him because she didn't want to relive it herself. Even though she hadn't slept with Jack, the interaction had been enough to traumatize her. "I think you need to tell me just as much as I need to know," he said gently, trying to coax her. Finally, Blair nodded.

"I was upset because you were pushing me away," she started. "But I knew you were going through a lot so I was going to be patient and wait for you to come to me. I really thought you would come to me. Eventually. You always have before, even if it took some time." Chuck nodded, his father's death standing out in a string of times he had turned to Blair throughout the time he had known her, both as a friend and as his girlfriend. He wished vehemently he hadn't pushed her away. He couldn't help but wonder if he had let her in before he had ever gone to Jack to bargain for the hotel if things would have turned out differently.

"I just wanted to help you, Chuck. I hated seeing how much you were hurting. I wanted to take that away from you. When that box came with the dress and the note, I saw my opportunity. I spent a lot of time debating on if it was cheating if I did it to help you. I went there thinking I was cheating on you, Chuck. All I could think about was how I was sacrificing my beliefs – sacrificing myself – for you. I even had a damn contract drawn up to prevent Jack from going back on his word or ever telling you what had happened between us."

"I saw the contract," Chuck admitted. "I kept it. It's in my safe. I intended to shred it, but I couldn't. It was – another reminder of the price I paid, I guess."

"When I got here, I just wanted to get it over with. I blocked out everything but getting it over with. Jack fixed me a drink and we sat down on the sofa. He put his hand on my knee…." Blair's eyes traveled to where Chuck's hand was resting on her knee, the same knee, in almost the same place Jack hand had been. Chuck noticed and gave her knee a gentle, reassuring squeeze, not removing his hand. "I just wanted to get it over with. I keep saying it, but that was all I could think of. I wanted to get it over with and then pretend it never happened. I'd put my clothes back on, he'd give you back the hotel, and we'd celebrate and put all of this – all of it – behind us.

"He kissed me and it just felt so – wrong. I didn't kiss back. I didn't respond. I couldn't have if I'd wanted to, I don't think. He said something about how he wanted to sleep with someone who wanted him. Then he told me what you did. He offered revenge sex as I was leaving, but I just wanted to get out of there and find you so you could tell me Jack was lying."

Chuck hung his head.

"I'm sorry," he whispered because it felt like the thing he was supposed to say. It was the only thing he could say. "I'm so sorry."

"The thing is, Chuck, I know you are." Chuck looked up. Blair covered his hand on her knee with her own. "I've known how sorry you are since Dorota's wedding. But knowing it and believing it are two different things."

"I spent days drinking after that," Chuck confessed. "Until Nate and Serena confronted me and convinced me to go to your place, all I did was drink. I didn't so much as leave the penthouse. I was there to beg forgiveness, but then I was presented with opportunity to make a grand gesture and so the wedding came about."

"So you were doing it to get to me," Blair said, a bit smug.

"Of course I was," Chuck said, aware that they both knew that from the moment he had announced his plans to throw the wedding. "I honestly thought throwing a romantic wedding for one of the people you love most would at least get you to talk to me, maybe remember how much we love each other. I thought if we could remember that, we could get through anything."

"You still haven't answered my question though," Blair pointed out. "You still haven't told me why." Chuck sighed and ran a hand over his face.

"I'm still working that part out," he admitted. "I didn't think, I just did. For a few days, everything I had believed my whole life – that I'd killed my mother and my father resented me for it – turned out to be not true. I'd be lying if I said I didn't enjoy having a real mother again or the way it felt like a weight had been lifted from my shoulders while I thought I hadn't killed her. Then I realized it was all a scheme. Jack played on all of my weaknesses and insecurities. His goal wasn't to take the hotel from me. It was to take you from me, Blair. And he succeeded."

Blair didn't say anything. She turned his hand over on her knee and laced her fingers through it and with a gentle squeeze, urged him silently to continue.

"I don't know. I was upset with you for convincing me to let Elizabeth in. I was upset with myself for letting her in. I was upset with Jack for taking away the one tangible thing that was mine and mine alone, the one thing I had that wasn't tied to my father. If I were thinking clearer, I think maybe I would have seen what he was doing and stopped him before he got this far, but he knew, if he pushed the right buttons, I would act out of desperation, not think of the consequences.

"I shut down. I remember the exact moment when I stopped feeling and started doing. It was right before I came to your dorm and said all was lost. I just shut down. I literally turned off my feelings and emotions and started thinking about what needed to be done and how to do it. I know you want to know why, but Blair, it's so complex, so complicated, that I can't explain it. I acted and assumed you would still be there – still love me – when I came out on the other side."

"Do you regret it?" Blair asked quietly. More tears had trailed down her cheeks during Chuck's monologue. She hadn't bothered to brush them away. There were too many. Chuck reached out and brushed a few away himself, noticing for the first time that she was crying. Of all the questions she could have asked, that was not the one he would have thought of. He studied her for a long while, her waiting for his answer, him thinking it over.

"No," he finally said, making sure to look right into her eyes. Her brown orbs went wide, shocked by his answer. She had been certain he would say yes. "I don't regret it. I probably should, but I don't. Because of my actions, I've learned what it feels like to lose everything and everyone I care about. I've been down before, but from the day I told Jack what store you were at, I've been at rock bottom. I've learned not to take love for granted and not to push away the people I care about. I've learned what is truly valuable to me. And even though I've hurt you – devastated you – even though I've hurt myself and my friends, my – family – I don't regret it.

"I'm Chuck Bass, Blair. I will always have to learn things the hard way. What I have learned from this – this disaster that I created all on my own – is too precious to regret. I'm sorry if that isn't what you want to hear, Blair, but it is the truth. I couldn't lie to you after everything I've put you through."

Blair kept her gaze cast downward for a long while, long enough for Chuck to grow uneasy. Finally, she looked at him.

"I think I understand that," she said slowly. "It wasn't what I expected to hear you say, but I do think I understand."

"You said at Dorota's wedding you wanted love to be simple," Chuck remembered. Blair nodded.

"And you said we'd be boring," she countered. "But that's what I want. All I want is a simple love. I used to think boring was bad, that if we were boring, you would stray and I would become an afterthought instead of 'Blair Waldorf.' Now, all I want is a simple, boring relationship full of nights watching bad TV and mornings reading the paper over breakfast, just like my mom and Cyrus and my dad and Roman. I don't care if that makes me an afterthought."

"Bad TV and paper over breakfast sound like heaven after everything we've been though in the last few months," Chuck said. "And you know I could never – ever – stray from you, Blair. But one could argue that if you're with the person you love with all your being, nothing you do together can be boring."

Blair bit her lip, thinking about what Chuck said. She had a fleeting hope that he would never cease being able to surprise her like he just had with his simple take on being boring. She looked at him tentatively. "I want us to be boring, Chuck."

"So do I," he agreed, squeezing her hand. "No schemes, no lies. Just me and you, together and happy with bad TV and morning newspapers."

Silence fell between the two. There was a lot more to be said and yet nothing else needed to be said. They both knew where their mistakes, both separate and together, had been. They both knew the only place for them to go was forward. And they both knew the only person they wanted to move forward with was the other.

"Blair?" Chuck asked. She looked at him expectantly. "Take me back. You don't have to forgive me. You don't have to trust me. At least not right now. Just let me back in and give me the chance to make things right between us." He waited with bated breath for her to reply. He watched her chew her lip and felt her hand squeeze his.

"Will you take me back?" Blair asked, surprising him. "Despite the times I manipulated you or gave you reason to not trust me?" Chuck smiled.

"That's hardly a question," he replied with a smirk.

"We can do this, Chuck. We can get through this and come out stronger than ever. If we both put forth the effort." Blair's voice was resolute, determined. She believed the words that came from her mouth as did Chuck. He stood and pulled her to her feet. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled him to her, reveling in the feeling of her arms sliding around him and then her head resting on his chest.

"Thank you," he whispered.

"Thank you," Blair replied. He pulled away and gently tipped her chin up.

"I'm going to kiss you," he informed her, seeking her consent. Blair's smile told him it was okay. He leaned in. When his lips met hers, his world was suddenly righted. Her content sigh told him hers was as well. The piles of debris that had wished Dorota could sweep away were still present, but they were significantly smaller now. Only the ringing of Chuck's BlackBerry could have broken them apart and only then because he knew it could be something to do with Lily. He knew too, that Blair understood this. "We're going somewhere tonight, just the two of us," he told her as he crossed the room for his phone. "We'll celebrate our reunion properly."

"And talk some more," Blair said pointedly, but with a soft small to let him know not to be too worried. Chuck picked up his phone.

"It's Rufus." As he spoke, Blair's phone started ringing.

"Serena," she said, picking hers up and reading the display. They both knew what it meant. "First one off the phone calls Arthur."

"Hello?" Chuck said into the phone, nodding in agreement with Blair.

"Chuck, you need to come to the hospital," Rufus said, his voice thick. "It's… We think it's…" Rufus couldn't put it into words, but Chuck knew.

"I'm on my way," he said, his stomach turning and his heart dropping. He heard Blair saying something similar across the room. He called Arthur to bring the limo around as he walked into his bedroom and dressed quickly, Blair doing the same. Neither of them talked much as they dressed, nor as they made their way to the lobby. Once inside the safety of the limo, Blair slid her hand into Chuck's.

"I'm here," she told him. "Whatever happens next, remember that." Chuck squeezed her hand and pulled her flush to his side. Blair could sense him fighting his emotions.

"If I start to slip away, pull me back," he whispered. "You're the only one who can."

"I will," Blair promised, resting her hand on his chest. "But don't make me have to. I'm here for you, Chuck. So is everyone else. Don't push us away again, especially not now." She rested her head on Chuck's shoulder. They rode the rest of the way to Lennox Hill in silence, Blair mentally preparing herself for the next several hours, Chuck torn between jubilation over the fact that Blair was back in his arms and despair over how he was going to say goodbye to yet another parent.

**Whew. I think that was the longest chapter yet. Next chapter… Well, you can probably guess where it's heading. : ( **


	20. Chapter 20

**This was a hard chapter to write. Not even going to lie. It was – emotional. But here it is for your reading pleasure. I use the world pleasure loosely seeing as I got teary-eyed writing this. There is one to two more updates, plus an epilogue left. I'm a bit sad about that. **

**I'm playing catch up on reviews and PMs so if you haven't heard from me and you've sent me one of the two or both, be patient – it's coming! I love all of you and cannot express my gratitude to you all for being so supportive of this story. I saw my story mentioned (with lots of great feedback!) on Gossip Girl Insider in the Chair thread so I had my own little happy dance in my office cubicle. Thank you all so very much. Replies coming soon, promise! **

**THINGS I OWN: An addiction to Mexican food. THINGS I DON'T OWN: Gossip Girl

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Blair sat next to Chuck on the overstuffed sofa in the private waiting room the hospital staff had appointed for them, holding his hand to offer him any comfort she could which, given the circumstances, wasn't much. They were waiting for a report from the doctor, but it would still be a while as they had just been asked to step out of the room so the doctor could exam Lily in private. Despite protests, he had allowed just Rufus to stay.

Lily was dying. Her vitals signs were decreasing subtly hour by hour. She was unconscious and the doctors swore she felt no pain. They had been taking turns sitting with her, Rufus always by her side while Serena, Eric and Chuck changed in and out in an unspoken schedule they had settled into. Nate would accompany Serena sometimes, other times Dan. Blair wondered a bit about Dan and Serena, but was fully aware that now, nor any of the days in the coming weeks, wasn't the appropriate time to ask about it. And Dan, she reasoned, was Lily's stepson.

Eric's boyfriend had came in support of Eric though it was Jenny who accompanied him into and from Lily's room. Chuck kept Blair by his side, his hand usual in hers or his arm wrapped around her waist, whether they were with Lily or sitting outside her room. She had left his side only once to use the restroom and he had been visibly anxious by the time she returned ten minutes later. He had hardly spoken since they had arrived, but Blair let him be, her heart breaking for him each time she watched him blink back tears or quickly run a hand over his face to hide any evidence should one escape.

She had also noticed he and Serena weren't speaking. She knew they had fought several weeks ago over what had transpired between her and Chuck, but Blair had thought they would have set aside their differences in light of Lily's illness. Eric had greeted Chuck with a warm hug which Chuck had almost greedily returned. Rufus had exchanged a quick, one-armed hug with Chuck and he and Dan had even managed to shake hands without their usual verbal sparring. Yet Serena had pointedly ignored Chuck, hugging Blair tightly and thanking her for being there. Sitting in the waiting room with Serena and Nate just feet away, she felt nearly torn between her best friend and her boyfriend.

"You should eat something," she said, turning her full attention on Chuck. "You haven't had a mouthful all day." Chuck shook his head.

"I couldn't eat if I wanted to," he told her. "But you should go get something. You haven't eaten either." Blair opened her mouth to protest, but Nate beat her to it.

"Serena, you should get something too. You barely ate breakfast. Go with Blair. If the doctors come before you get back, I'll come find you." Serena and Blair traded a look. Nate gave them no choice but to get up and go to the cafeteria. "Bring Chuck and I something back," he added. He let Blair know with a slight nod of his head that he'd look after Chuck until she got back.

"Just bring me back a coffee," Chuck mumbled.

"Coffee and a muffin it is," Blair replied, ignoring the look he shot her. She kissed his cheek before she stood and offered Serena her hand. "Come on, S. We'll go as fast as we can." Serena reluctantly allowed Blair to pull her out of her seat. The two friends linked arms as they made their way to the cafeteria, Serena leaning on Blair for support of the emotional variety.

"B, can we sit outside for a minute? In that little garden thing in the courtyard?" Serena asked, surprising Blair. "But just for a minute. I don't want to miss the doctors, but I need to get out of this hospital."

"Of course," Blair replied, changing directions. She led Serena through the halls and outside, then found them a quiet bench to sit on. The only other occupant in the garden was an elderly man, smoking a cigarette despite the oxygen tank he was rolling behind him and the glaring 'no smoking' sign at the entrance. Blair crinkled her nose in disgust, but was satisfied with the distance between him and herself and Serena.

"B, am I a horrible person for just wanting this to be over with?" Serena asked, her blue eyes full of tears. "I love my mom so much, but it hurts too much to see her like this. And the waiting? The waiting, knowing she has just hours left – if we're lucky – it's the worst part of all." The tears fell then. Blair fought to restrain her own.

"Oh, S," she said, wrapping her arms around Serena. "I'd give anything to know what to say to make this better for you."

"Distract me," Serena replied almost at once. "Tell me something that is completely not related to my mom's illness. Anything. For the next five minutes, let's pretend we're on the steps of the Met before class, eating yogurt and drinking nonfat lattes." Blair racked her mind for something meaningless to tell Serena, something trivial that she would have placed the utmost importance on just a year ago.

"When I was in France, Daddy took me to this boutique in the town near his chateau. I bought the most amazing pair of Jimmy Choos. They're from the fall collection though, so I won't be able to wear them until at least September. But before anyone else pulls their fall collection items out of their closets, of course."

"Of course," Serena said with a hint of a genuine smile. Then she frowned and fixed Blair with a piercing look. "Why don't you tell me what's going on with you and Chuck? Surely you didn't forgive him, did you, B? Because it looks like it, what with the hand holding and cheek kissing and all."

"We're back together," Blair confirmed. "Things have changed. We talked – like adults, even – and while our relationship is still in more or less in ruins, I think we might stand a chance at rising from the ashes. We're just going to take it day by day and see what happens."

"He traded you for a hotel, Blair," Serena reminded her, happy to have someone else's problems to focus on for the time being. "That's not something that should be easily forgiven."

"Serena, it's been months. That's not counting the way things were between us in the weeks leading up to the big Indecent Proposal. I did not forgive him easily. I still haven't completely forgiven him. But he's Chuck and I'm Blair and, well, we're Chuck and Blair. He is sorry for the things he's done. I know he is. And to be truthful, I made my mistakes in our relationship too, just not as drastic as what Chuck did."

"If he's so sorry, then why the hookers, B? Why the alcohol and the parties?" Blair shook her head.

"All lies," she told Serena. "He had the tips sent to Gossip Girl and paid for the parties, even had the call girls staying in their own suite at the hotel. The only thing Gossip Girl reported on him that's true is how much alcohol he's been drinking."

"And you believe that?"

"I do," Blair confirmed with resolution. "He wouldn't lie to me, Serena. Not now. I had suspicions that something wasn't adding up. He just confirmed them."

"I still don't think forgiving him and getting back together with him is a good idea," Serena said stubbornly.

"Maybe it's not," Blair conceded. "But we're miserable apart. Chuck has changed, Serena. I understand your concern and will even admit it's well-founded, but please, trust me on this."

Serena sighed, relenting. "I'll keep a suitcase packed, just in case he breaks your heart again and we need to jet off to Paris or Madrid or somewhere exotic to help you get over him." Blair gave her a wry look.

"Thanks, S."

"I'll reassess my state of readiness in three months," Serena continued, "see if it's okay for me to unpack." Blair refrained with difficulty from rolling her eyes.

"We should probably grab something from the cafeteria and get back," she said instead. "The doctors should be nearly done with their examination by now."

They made a quick stop in the cafeteria, heading in opposite directions as they walked through the door. Blair went straight to the coffee selection and fixed both herself and Chuck the biggest coffees she could, taking care to poke the lid on one to mark which one was Chuck's. She picked up a couple of muffins for them as well, determined that he would eat something. Serena wandered back up to her, empty handed and looking lost.

"Hold this," Blair said with a discreet sigh after she sized up her best friend. She passed off the coffees and muffins to Serena then made two more coffees and retrieved two more muffins. On an after thought, she grabbed a few extra in case anyone else was hungry. She paid and guided Serena, who had fallen into a near catatonic state after their talk in the courtyard, her mind lost in thoughts about her mother, back to their waiting room.

"Thanks," Nate said, accepting the coffee Blair held out to him. He took Serena's as well and helped himself to the muffins. Blair plucked two for her and Chuck and left Nate to try to convince Serena to eat. Serena, however, had crossed the room and was standing in front of Chuck. Chuck looked up at her wearily.

"Just so you know, I don't approve of Blair taking you back," she stated. Chuck nodded.

"I figured you wouldn't."

"She seems to think it's a good idea, so for her sake, I'll be supportive of her decision, despite my disapproval." Blair watched anxiously as Serena towered over Chuck in his chair. "But Chuck Bass, if you hurt her again – I'm talking if you so much as stand her up for a lunch date again – I will kick your ass, just like I should have done when all of this mess with Jack and the damn hotel first started." Chuck quirked a smirk at Serena.

"Though I appreciate your fierce dedication to Blair more than you will ever know, I assure you, sis, that there will be no need to risk ruining your Louboutins by kicking my ass."

Despite the somber mood, the room lightened, even if it were only briefly. Nate laughed out loud while Blair smirked. Chuck raised an eyebrow, waiting for Serena's reply. She couldn't help the small smile that graced her face as she looked down at Chuck.

"You truly are a basstard, Chuck Bass," she stated, the small smile still on her face. She turned no her heel and returned to Nate. Blair took her place at Chuck's side.

"Here," she said gently, handing him the cup holder with the two remaining coffees. "And I got you a muffin too." Chuck waited for her to sit down then handed her her own coffee.

"I can't eat, Blair," he said softly, his moment of levity with Serena wearing off. "I feel sick."

"It's a bran muffin," Blair encouraged. "It'll help settle your stomach." He sighed, but took a small bite. He would eat as much of it as he could stand if only to make her happy. Blair rubbed his back gently in silent support and kissed his cheek again.

Another ten minutes passed in silence. Eric and his boyfriend entered the room from wherever they had been and sat down. Nate convinced Serena to eat and Blair made herself be happy with the fact that Chuck had managed to eat half of his own muffin before putting it aside. He had put an arm around her and pulled her closer, his head resting on her shoulder when a weary looking older doctor flanked by two younger doctors entered the room.

"I'm Dr. Lawson," the older man said. "I'm the lead doctor on Mrs. van der Woodsen-Humphrey's case. These are my residents, Dr. Campbell," a petite dishwater blond raised her hand, "and Dr. Whu," the other doctor, an Asian man, raised his hand.

"How is my mom?" Serena asked. Dr. Lawson sighed. Blair felt Chuck tighten his grip around her.

"Mrs. van der..."

"Call her Lily," Chuck interrupted. The doctor looked at Chuck. He knew who the boy was, of course. Anyone who was anyone in New York knew Charles Bass and his story. The death of Bart Bass had been headline news for weeks. He had witnessed his devotion to the woman he learned was a pseudo mother and his heart ached for the boy.

"Lily is comfortable," Dr. Lawson said, turning from Chuck. "Morphine is helping with any pain she may be experiencing. As all of you most likely know, Lily signed a do not resuscitate order before she got too ill to make her own medical decisions."

There was a collective gasp around the waiting room.

"She did what?" Eric asked. Chuck leaned forward. Blair sensed his tension. His arm had slipped from around her, but she grabbed his hand and held it between both of hers.

"I'm sorry," Dr. Lawson apologized. "I thought you all knew."

"No, we didn't," Serena said, standing. "Where is Rufus?"

"Serena," Nate said in a calm voice. "Sit down. Listen to what Dr. Lawson has to say." She whirled around to face Nate, blond hair flying.

"Don't tell me to sit down, Nate," she snapped. "Rufus knew she did this. She wouldn't have done it without talking to him. And he didn't tell us. Neither of them did. We didn't get a say as to whether or not she would be revived when her heart stops. I'm going to put a stop to this." It seemed Serena had forgotten her statement earlier about wanting it to be over.

"Serena, Rufus tried to stop her," Dr. van der Woodsen spoke up. Most everyone had forgotten he was perched in a chair in the corner, not quite a part of their grieving group though irreversible connected to it. "I was there. He begged her not to do it. She didn't want to be kept alive by a machine."

"But we didn't get a say," Serena argued, tears forming.

"You never get a say, Serena," Chuck spoke up, surprising all of them. "You don't get a say if your parents – or anyone else – lives or dies. Look at it this way. At least you don't have to spend the rest of your life with the knowledge that you killed her or the image of your cold, dead father on a metal table in the hospital morgue, bruised and disfigured from the accident that killed him. At least this way, you can prepare yourself for the inevitable. Not that it will be any easier."

Chuck pulled away from Blair and stood to leave.

"Chuck," she said softly. His eyes met hers. They were clouded with tears.

"Just give me a minute," he said, pleading. Blair understood. She nodded. He left the room and Blair, her stomach in knots, did as he asked and let him go, hoping desperately he wouldn't push her away. Full of anxiety, she sat and listened as Dr. Lawson delivered his grime news in the most comforting manner he could.

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Blair found Chuck in the same courtyard she and Serena had escaped to earlier. He was sitting alone on one of the concrete benches, hands clasped together tightly as he rested his elbows on his knees. Blair made her way to him quietly. When she was close enough, Chuck let out a long sigh and slid over on the bench to make room for her. Just the simple gesture increased Blair's faith that he would let her be there for him.

"Hey," he said in a hoarse voice.

"Hey," she replied timidly.

"I'm sorry," Chuck apologized almost as soon as she sat down. "I just couldn't..."

"I know," Blair said, reaching over to cover his hands with one of hers. "I know this is impossible for you."

"Serena doesn't get it. She has no idea what it's like to lose a parent."

"It's not exactly something anyone should be well-practiced at," Blair commented, hoping she didn't offend him.

"No," he agreed. "They shouldn't be. Unfortunately, I've lost my father and my mother – twice. Soon to be three times with Lily. Maybe I'm a curse."

"Chuck," Blair warned. He sighed.

"Sorry," he said though how much he meant it Blair didn't know. "Just looking at the facts."

"Your mother loved you," Blair reminded him. "Your real mother, not that lying whore that showed up here and took advantage of you. Bart loved you in his own twisted manner. And Lily loves you. None of them set out with the intentions of leaving you."

"This should be a happy time," Chuck said, a hint of animosity in his tone. "You and I should be celebrating being back together. We should be planning to have a nice dinner tonight or cuddling in bed together, not sitting here, waiting for Lily to die."

"Honestly Chuck, you letting me be by your side through this is enough for me. We don't need to celebrate. We're together again. And that is more than enough."

Chuck smiled at her softly though his eyes were full of sadness.

"I couldn't get through this without you," he admitted. "I don't know – I don't want to think about – what would have happened if you weren't here with me." Blair's mind instantly went back to Bart's death. She shuttered involuntarily. Chuck noticed and knew where her mind had gone. He unclasped his hands and took her hand in his. They sat side by side, their legs and arms fused together.

"Chuck, you should go inside," Blair said gently. "The doctor... He said it's time to say goodbye."

Chuck closed his eyes.

"What did the doctor say?"

"Lily doesn't have much time left. Her vitals are bottoming out. They've unplugged all the machines except the morphine drip. Dr. Lawson swears she isn't in pain and will pass peacefully." Blair watched Chuck swallow hard. He tightened his grip on her hand.

"You'll stay with me?" he asked.

"Of course," Blair nodded. Chuck nodded as well and stood, pulling Blair to her feet.

"Come here," he whispered. He pulled her into his chest, his arms wrapped tightly around her. He buried his face in her hair and breathed in, her scent comforting him. He pulled away after several long moments and leaned in to kiss her gently. Blair couldn't help the soft sigh that escaped her. She could literally feel Chuck's emotions as he kissed her, both his distress over losing Lily and his love for her. She couldn't deny either that it felt good to kiss him again. He pulled away and took her hand once more to lead them back upstairs.

The mood was heavy when they entered Lily's room. Rufus was sitting on one side of Lily, her hand in his. He didn't acknowledge the others, his eyes fixed on Lily's sleeping face. Serena and Eric were on her other side, Serena running her fingers over her mother's cheek, her eyes full of tears. Eric's hand rested on top of Lily's, silent tears rolling down his cheeks. Nate hovered awkwardly behind Serena, unsure of what to do or what his place was, but there because Serena wanted him to be. Dan and Jenny stood side by side at the foot of the bed, Jenny's arm looped through Dan's. Even Dr. van der Woodsen was there, tucked into the shadows of a corner. Blair found herself feeling for him. She knew he still loved Lily and could only imagine how hard it was to watch her go with another man by his side. She glanced up at Chuck as he led them to stand next to Eric.

"Someone should say something," Serena stated. She glanced around the room, looking for a volunteer. No one stepped forward. Everyone agreed, but no one knew what to say. Moments passed. Finally, Dr. van der Woodsen stepped from the shadows.

"Rufus," he started. Rufus pulled his eyes from Lily just long enough to glance at her ex-husband. "Thank you, for loving her. And thank you too for being there for my kids. You have been a far better father to them then I ever could have been." Rufus nodded his acknowledgement. "Lily, I let you go, but you always held my heart. It gives me comfort to know you'll be watching over all of us from above." He returned to the shadows, satisfied that he had said his part.

"I love you, Lil," Rufus whispered. "Don't worry about the kids. Serena, Eric, Chuck... They have me. I'll look after them." Chuck pulled Blair tighter to his side. Blair wondered if Chuck would ever accept Rufus as part of his life.

"If I could have chosen a stepmom, I would have still chosen you, Lily," Jenny spoke up. "You were always there for me when things got too hard. You have no idea what that means to me. I know I haven't always been the easiest person to deal with, but I love you."

"You made my dad's dreams come true, Lily. I'm eternally grateful for that," Dan said, glancing at his father. Rufus squeezed his eyes closed to hold back his tears, determined not to cry in front of the children.

"I'll be okay, Mom," Eric spoke next. "I know you're worried about me, but I'll be okay. I promise you I will. You don't have to worry about me. Rest now." Blair rested her head on Chuck's shoulder. He leaned down and kissed head.

"Mom," Serena said, her voice cracking. "I put you through so much. I regret it every day. I wasted so much time rebelling against you. I wish I knew I only had a little time left with you. I love you so much, but I know you'll be in a better place. I'm just going to miss you – so much."

"I'll watch out for her, Lily," Nate said, stepping up behind Serena. He put a hand on her waist. "She'll be safe with me." Tears fell from Serena's eyes and landed on her mother's bed sheets. Nate put a comforting hand on her shoulder. Blair glanced up at Chuck.

"Don't worry about Chuck either, Lily," she said, her voice full of emotion. "He has me." She felt Chuck's grip around her waist tighten. She hadn't said much, but she had said what she knew Lily needed to hear. The room fell silent, only the sound of Lily's heart monitor beeping infrequently filling the room. Blair waited, hoping, Chuck would say something. She saw Eric shoot him a glance, clearly waiting for the same thing as well.

"Chuck," Blair whispered so softly only he could hear her. He looked at her and somehow, she just knew. She knew there was something he wanted to say, but he didn't have the courage. She nodded her head once, holding his eyes with her own. She hoped the gesture would remind him she believed in him – that she always had. She watched resolve form in the clouded storm of emotions in his eyes.

"Lily," he breathed. He tightened his grip on Blair even more. His arm was now around her so tightly it almost hurt, but she didn't dare speak up. "I..." he searched for the right words to say. He swallowed visibly. "I... love you."

The tension in the room was momentarily replaced with something else. Shock, perhaps, or maybe awe. Every single person in the room knew how hard those words were for Chuck to say. They knew Blair was the only person who had ever heard those words from him. Chuck saying it to Lily was an intimate moment all of them, even Blair, felt as though they were intruding on. Chuck reached out and slid his hand under Lily's, leaving Eric's hand in place on top of it.

"Mom," he whispered. Blair gave up trying to hold back her tears. They rolled silently down her cheeks. She turned into Chuck and rested her head against his chest, his arm still around her. They waited.

The beeps of the heart monitor grew further apart.

Muffled sniffles from Blair, Serena and Jenny were the only other source of noise in the crowded hospital room.

The beeps grew still further apart.

Chuck didn't release his hold on either Blair or Lily's hand, grasped between the hands of her two sons.

After what felt like hours but was less than one, a long, steady beep filled the room. Dr. Lawson, who had slipped in unnoticed minutes earlier, stepped forward. He quickly checked for a pulse and breath sounds.

"Time of death, 13:01."

Serena let out a heart wrenching sob and turned to Nate who pulled her into a hug, his own eyes sparkling with tears. Eric bowed his head as did Dr. van der Woodsen. Dan hugged Jenny who cried into his plaid shirt. Rufus gently kissed Lily's forehead, the first tears he had shed during Lily's entire illness falling. Chuck took his arm from around Blair, released Lily's hand and left the room.

Blair let him go as she stepped over to Eric and looped her arm through his.

"Should someone...?" Eric asked through his own tears, glancing towards the door.

"No," Blair answered softly. "He needs some space." Eric nodded.

Nate met Blair's eyes over Serena's head which was resting on his shoulder. They were both thinking the same thing – How far away was Chuck going to go to get that space?

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**So who's crying? I'm thinking two more updates... **


	21. Chapter 21

**I was so not prepared for the response the last chapter got. To say I was a bit overwhelmed by it would be an understatement. People were crying, reading on their phones in bathroom stalls or on trains... It was amazing and I am truly flabbergasted that people love my story that much. It just blows my mind. So thank you to all of you for being so amazing. I am so far behind on replying to reviews it should be a sin, but I'm going to get to all of them one day. I have read every last one of them as well as every PM, but I just haven't had a chance to reply yet. I'm determined to though so don't be surprised if the day comes and you get like 5 PMs from me because I just replied to your last 5 reviews. I roll like that. I can't even begin to say thank you for all of the amazing support you all have shown me and my story. **

**There are two more chapters left after this one, plus an epilogue. I'm sad that it's drawing to a close, but I will be writing more, including an outtake of this story once it's completed. Even as I wrote this chapter (which I really tried not to make so sad since the last two have been sad), I was thinking of how things are all drawing to a close. But there are still more updates to come so let's not get too sad yet! **

**THINGS I OWN: A Cosmo magazine I probably won't get to read for at least another week. THINGS I DON'T OWN: Gossip Girl.

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He jerked upright in bed, his heart hammering.

"It was a dream," he said out loud as he blew out a breath and pushed his hand through his hair. "It was just a dream." He reached out for Blair but his hand landed on the cool sheets instead. He felt panic building in his chest as he threw back the covers and burst through his bedroom doors into the penthouse living room.

"Good morning," Blair said, looking at him from where she sat cross-legged on the couch, a steaming mug of coffee between her hands, a robe cinched around her waist. "I was going to come wake you up in a few more minutes. It's getting late." She noticed the expression on his face then and frowned. "Are you okay?"

"Fine," he mumbled. He dragged himself over to the sofa and sat down beside her. "Just missed you when I woke up." Blair studied him with eyes that saw him better then he saw himself.

"You had another one of those dreams again, didn't you?" she asked. He sighed.

"Yeah," he admitted. "This time it was Nate." Blair leaned forward to place her mug on the coffee table before she turned to Chuck. She scooted closer to him and draped her legs over his lap before curling up against his chest. He in turn put an arm around her and the other fell across her legs, his head resting against hers.

"Maybe they'll stop after today," she said.

"Maybe," Chuck repeated, though he didn't have much hope. Since the night of Lily's death, his nightmare had changed from Blair being taken from him to someone he loved dying before his eyes. He always woke up after seeing them in a coffin. It had been Blair the first time and Eric the next. This time, it had been Nate.

"I laid your suit across the chair in your bedroom," she told him. "Dorota brought my dress over this morning."

"Did she have Amelia with her?" he asked, pointedly ignoring the reference to their clothing.

"She did," Blair confirmed with a small smile. "I didn't want to wake you though. I told her we would come visit them in the next few days." She looked up at him. "She also said to tell you she and Vanya will be there today and that they will help with the reception afterward."

"I will never understand why people gather to eat food and drink champagne after a funeral," Chuck commented. "A somber occasion becomes a social gathering."

"People are supposed to be paying their respects to the family, but in our world, it does become a social event," Blair admitted. "We don't have to stay the whole time if you don't want to."

"We'll play it by ear," he said. He rested his head on her shoulder and closed his eyes, content to just hold her for a while.

When Lily had passed, he had wanted to stay in the room with the rest of his grieving family. He had wanted to be able to stay there, hold Blair's hand, hug Serena and Eric, say one last goodbye. But he just couldn't. Too many emotions had passed through him the last 48 hours leading up to her death and he was spent. He had been nervous about Blair's return from France. He had fought with Nate. Learned Lily's condition had deteriorated. Spent hours at the hospital, anxious over both Lily and Blair.

Then Blair had appeared, fresh off a transatlantic flight. She had taken her spot by him, silently showing her support. She had been there when his eyes had flown open in the hospital waiting room in terror from yet another nightmare. He had been weak, admitting his need for her. He had been content, happy even, to just lay in bed beside her. He had apologized to Nate and then experienced pure jubilation at his reunion with Blair.

The happy bubble he had put them in after she had agreed to give him another chance had quickly popped with the news that Lily had reached her finals hours. He had then spent his time waiting. Worrying. Wondering. And, perhaps foolishly, hoping for a last ditch miracle. Though, he had reasoned that his ,.miracle had come in the form of one Blair Waldorf who had been his rock from the moment she had arrived at the hospital from the airport.

His emotional scale had reached a tipping point with the emotional goodbyes. Only Blair's presence had given him the courage to say 'I love you' to Lily and call her his mother. That feat had nearly exhausted him and when the monitor had sounded it's final long beep, he hadn't been able to take anymore. He had felt too much for too long. Mentally and emotionally exhausted, he had fled from the room in hopes that being somewhere else – anywhere else – would help him get through whatever was next.

He had made it as far as the hospital lobby.

When he had left the room, his intentions had been to call for his limo and make his next move once tucked safely inside. Instead, he had sat down in one one of the falsely inviting armchairs in the lobby and waited for Blair to find him. He couldn't have left the hospital for all of his want to after the promise he had made to Lily. And to Blair.

As much as he knew Blair had wanted him to stay, he thought this was a decent compromise – he got his space from his grieving family, space he needed in order to start processing his own grief, and she didn't have to search a foreign country to find him. He had felt her presence before she reached him and had waited almost hungrily for her hand to fall on his shoulder.

"Let's go home," she had whispered, reaching for his hand and helping him to his feet. It was oddly similar to the night she had found him on the hospital floor after Serena's accident. He knew The Empire was not his home – it hadn't been since the moment Jack had moved in – but he didn't bother to correct Blair. He would go wherever she went. She was his home.

Now, three days later, it was time to bury Lily. He had sat stoically through the visitation the night before, silently judging who was there because they genuinely cared against who was there simply to be seen. One of those groups was certainly smaller than the other. Blair had remained at his side, firmly in her place between him and Serena, deflecting those who wished them well for too long or without enough sincerity and then ushering all of them – the Humphreys included – back to her mother's penthouse for a dinner prepared by Dorota.

Today, Chuck knew, was going to be impossible. He had Blair though and that gave him hope that he would get through it.

"We should start getting ready," Blair said, her fingers weaving lazily through his hair. "We have to meet everyone at The Palace before we go to the church." Chuck nodded in agreement, his eyes still closed, head still on her shoulder.

"I don't want to do this," he admitted.

"I know," Blair replied in a soothing voice, her fingers still massaging his scalp. "I don't either." Chuck let out a long sigh and forced himself to sit up.

"I'm just glad you're here," he admitted. "I couldn't do this without you."

Blair smiled softly at him and placed her hand on his cheek. "I'm here," she repeated. "And you'll get through this." Chuck turned his head and kissed the palm of her hand. He stood to start the process of showering and dressing for a funeral, but stopped.

"I owe you a proper good morning kiss," he informed her as he leaned down. He felt Blair smile as she returned his kiss and for the moment, his mood was lifted. "I love you, Waldorf." He had said those three words a lot over the last few days, but he knew she needed to hear them as much as he needed to say them.

"I love you too, Bass," she replied with a soft smile. She reached out and put her hand on his cheek briefly. He turned to kiss her palm again and then pulled himself in the direction of the bathroom.

* * *

He didn't remember much of his father's funeral and he doubted he would remember much of this one. When his father had passed away, he had went straight for bottles. Bottles of pills, bottles of alcohol, bottles of anything that would help him forget. He hadn't allowed himself to grieve properly, those few short hours he laid with Blair in her bed the only moments he had allowed himself to truly mourn before continuing his drunken run into oblivion.

This time, he wasn't going to remember because he was too full of grief to comprehend much past the swarm of emotions in the pit of his stomach, his damp eyes, and Blair's hand firmly in his. The minister's sermon was but a distant hum in the background of his thoughts. Only phrases and words of the eulogies given by Rufus, Serena and Eric reached him. He was aware that Blair was crying silently, her free hand dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief. He had registered too that Lily and Rufus's biological son was there, but he kept his distance from the family he wasn't a part of.

"Chuck, it's your turn, if you want to say something," Blair whispered to him as Eric made his way back to their front row pew. Chuck took a deep breath. He owed Lily this, he thought. He stood and felt Blair squeeze his hand for reassurance before he unwillingly let it go and stepped up to the podium. He took another deep breath.

"Lily was, in all respects, my mother," he started. He didn't have a speech prepared. He had tried, of course, but the words hadn't come. He was on his own. Just as he had when his father had married Lily, he looked to Blair for inspiration. She held his gaze with her own and he nodded minutely at her. He could do this.

"Lily stepped in and filled a spot in my life that had been left empty since birth. I wasn't always the most willing or the most open to her actions, but she persisted until I gave in. I've made some choices lately that were made in haste and lacked in judgment. Lily could have turned her back on me and quite frankly, probably should have, but instead, she showed up at my door, sick and determined, and gave a lecture only a mother could give – disapproving and laced with love.

"When Lily was last admitted to the hospital, she asked to speak with each of us individually. Sitting there with her, she made a request of me. I won't share that because it is sacred to me, but she asked something of me I would have never been able to do without her. I regret that I did not let her know how appreciative of her I am, but I will honor her memory by following through with her wishes for me.

"Lily wasn't perfect. None of us are. But Lily loved her children, her husband and those that were close to her with a fierceness that I admire. While there are those who will remember Lily for her philanthropic activities or her many marriages before she finally got it right," Chuck paused as the congregation chuckled through their tears, "she will be remembered by myself, Serena, Eric, Dan, Jenny and Rufus and those close to us as a mother and a wife who truly loved without condition."

Chuck had said his peace. He left the podium, pausing at the casket to rest his hand on it briefly. Then he returned to his seat and before he had sat down good, Blair's hand was back in his.

"That was beautiful," she whispered. He nodded once and brought their clasped hands to his lips, placing a soft kiss on hers. He allowed one tear to fall before drawing a shaky breath and willing the rest of the service to pass quickly.

* * *

The day was gray and damp, perfect for the mood. He had escaped to the balcony of Lily and Rufus's penthouse. Too many people had came up to him to offer their condolences or tell him to call them if he needed anything, knowing full well when they offered he never would. He needed to breath. He had been outside for nearly half an hour when the door creaked open. He looked over his shoulder expecting Blair, but it was Nate who greeted him.

"Hey," Nate said.

"Hey," Chuck replied, turning his gaze back to the buildings across from him and the streets below him.

"You've been out here for a while," Nate commented, joining him in leaning on the banister.

"Too many people inside," Chuck replied. Nate nodded in agreement. "Where's Serena?"

"With Blair," Nate answered. "She's better at deflecting unwanted well-wishers then I am." Chuck quirked a small grin. Blair did bitch better then anyone he knew and she was also viciously protective over those she loved. Serena was in quite capable hands. "How are you holding up?"

Chuck shrugged. "I'm here," he said. Both of them knew what Chuck meant.

"Your speech today, that was – something."

"I honestly couldn't tell you much of what I said."

"It was enough," Nate said with a nod. "Better then all of that 'she's in a better place' stuff the minister kept repeating over and over."

"He's right though," Chuck replied.

"Yeah, he is. It just doesn't make it any easier."

"No," Chuck agreed. "It really doesnt."

"If there was a silver lining to it all though, I guess it would be that Lily's death brought you and Blair back together."

"It helped" Chuck admitted. "I like to think we would have ended up back together even if Lily was still alive and healthy, but like you said, silver lining. I really don't deserve her though. Never have. But she gave me another chance – I've lost track of how many she's given me now - and I'm not going to have to ask her for another one."

"You know, I've heard you say that before, but this is the first time I've actually believed it," Nate commented. "I expect to be asked to stand up as best man when you marry her."

Chuck let out a short laugh.

"Who else would I ask?" he asked. Just over a year ago, he would have cringed at the even near mention of marrying anyone, let alone Blair Waldorf. Now, he knew there would come a day, some day in the future but not too far into it, when he was presenting her with a diamond and asking her to take his last name. Blair Bass did have a nice ring to it.

"Well, you and Humphrey seem to get along these days..." Chuck scoffed in response which made Nate laugh. It was good to have a lighthearted moment amongst the sadness of the day.

"You know, I should probably apologize for essentially making you homeless," Chuck said. "We've still got a couple of weeks before we need to be out though."

Nate shook his head.

"No worries. It's not like I stay there much anyway and I understand why you sold the hotel. I think I would have done the same thing if it had been me."

"It wouldn't have ever been you," Chuck said with certainty. Nate didn't have it in him to be a heartless bastard, even when he tried to be.

"Even so, I get it," Nate said. "I've looked at a few places closer to Columbia. There's a loft I think I'm going to take. It's close to the lacrosse field, has an awesome view of the city..."

"When you say loft, you mean something of some substance, not Brooklyn's dump, right?" Chuck asked, only half joking. He knew Nate wasn't above slumming it. He did sleep on the Humphrey's couch once upon a time after all.

"It's a nice place," Nate confirmed. "What about you? Found a place yet?"

"I've got a few prospects to look at. I've put it off with everything that's been going on, but it can't be put off much longer. I'm going to see if Blair has time to look this week."

"Getting Blair to look with you? You asking her to move in?" Nate asked curiously. Chuck shook his head.

"It's too soon," he admitted. "I mean, she's stayed at the penthouse every night since we got back together, but having her sleep over and asking her to live with me are entirely different in her head. She wouldn't be okay with me asking her to move in right now. But I plan to when things are on firmer ground between us which is why I want her to look too, make sure it's a place she'll be happy in when the day comes. Besides, she's leased a place closer to Columbia that she'll be moving in at the end of summer anyway."

"Makes sense," Nate agreed, thinking that Chuck had a point. In Blair's mind, she still had somewhere else to call home, even if she spent nearly every night with Chuck. If Chuck were to ask her to give that up when she had only just agreed to take him back, they would be fighting all over again.

"Listen at us," Chuck commented. "We sound like adults."

"Yeah," Nate said a nod. "When did that happen?" Chuck shook his head. He didn't know when adulthood had happened to Nate, but he could pinpoint the day it had happened to him. It was the night his father had died. The door opened and shut again, but neither of them turned. Chuck didn't need to. He knew those footsteps, whether clad in heels, flats or barefooted, anywhere.

"Nate, Serena is look for you," Blair said. "I left her hiding out in the kitchen." Nate thanked Blair and clapped Chuck on the shoulder before excusing himself. Blair stepped up to the railing beside Chuck.

"How's Serena?" Chuck asked.

"Devastated," Blair answered. "But she'll be okay eventually. We all will."

"And Eric?"

"He's coping. But I think he could use his brother in the coming weeks." Chuck smiled just slightly at the idea of being Eric's brother. He knew what Blair was implying. Despite Eric's promise to Lily that he would be okay, they were both concerned about him given his past history.

"Maybe a Lost Weekend a couple of weeks down the line will do him some good," Chuck said. "Though that could be interesting, given the whole gay thing. I could take him to Vegas instead. That might be more his scene."

"Don't corrupt him," Blair warned. "One Chuck Bass is all this city can stand."

"Like I could if I wanted to. That kid has more morals than Dan Humphrey." Blair grinned despite the somber mood. She looped her arm though Chuck's and moved to stand closer to him.

"Bass, I'm proud of you," she said. Chuck looked over at her.

"For what?"

"For staying here. For not running. I know how hard it was for you to stand up and speak from your heart the way you did today. I know how hard all of this is for you. I'm proud of how you are handling it."

"I couldn't have done it without you," Chuck said "I keep saying it, but it's true. You will never know how much stronger you make me." Blair simply smiled and stepped still closer to him, sliding her arms around him. He hugged her small frame to his, kissing the top of her head. "You know how I said I promised Lily something when I was speaking today?"

"Yes..."

"You are what I promised her," Chuck admitted. Blair pulled away and looked up at him.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"I promised her I would love you and do right by you from here on out," Chuck told her. "And that I would let people in. Not everyone – she understood my desire to be careful with who I trust - but you, Nate, Serena, Eric... Even Rufus. She knew it was a lot to ask of me, but she's right. I need to be better. For you, for my friends..."

"I thought you weren't going to share Lily's request of you with anyone," Blair said with a sad smile, thinking back to how she had promised Lily she would take care of Chuck and Serena.

"Well you aren't just anyone, are you Waldorf?"

"And just who, Bass, am I?" Blair asked, pulling him closer. Chuck rested his forehead against hers.

"You, Blair Waldorf, are the love of my life." Blair's smile was dazzling in the moment he saw it before her lips crashed against his. He kissed her back with every feeling he had, everything from sorrow to joy, heartache to love. "Think it would be okay for us to get out of here?" he asked when he pulled away, his forehead resting against hers again.

"I think so. We'll say goodbye to everyone and slip out quietly."

"Everyone?" Chuck asked. He wasn't up to addressing the whole crowd of faux well-wishers.

"Just those that matter," Blair amended. Chuck nodded his agreement and allowed Blair to lead him back inside.

* * *

Later that night, Chuck sat on the sofa of his Penthouse, papers spread across the coffee table and on the sofa next to him, his laptop open. He studied the sheaf of papers in his hands intently with a grime look of satisfaction on his face. He heard Blair's soft footsteps padding towards him and looked up to see her fresh out the shower, her favorite silk robe she must have had Dorota bring over with her dress wrapped around her, damp hair swinging loosely around her shoulders. She was beautiful.

"Are you working?" she asked. He moved some papers out of the way so she could sit beside him. "It's late and it's been a long day. You should think about going to bed."

"I've got a lot to catch up on," he said. "I haven't been to the office in nearly a week." Blair reached for a stack of papers sitting on the coffee table.

"Are these properties we're going to look at tomorrow?" He had asked her on the way back to the hotel if she would look at places with him and she had readily agreed, making plans to go as soon as the following day.

"Yeah. Go through them and take out any you don't like. We won't waste time with those." He shuffled to the next page of the papers in his hand, but put a hand on Blair's thigh, just to show her he wasn't ignoring her like he had a tendency to do previously. It was little things like that that would make their relationship work this time around. They sat in silence for a while, Chuck growing more satisfied with each shift of a page while Blair sorted hers into two piles – look at and not worth it.

"I think I'm going to go to bed," she announced as she put the last piece of paper into the look at pile and tapped the stack with her manicured finger. "We're going to look at these."

"Okay," Chuck answered distractedly, his eyes racing across the paper in his hand. Blair frowned. Because she knew Chuck, she knew something was amiss.

"What is it, Chuck?" Chuck blew out a breath.

"Remember how I was looking for a way to bring Jack down?" he asked, turning his eyes to her.

"Yes..." Blair's stomach turned over in suspicion. Or maybe it was the mention of Jack that made it flip.

"I found it." She stared at him.

"What?" she demanded. "What are we going to do?"

"We?" Chuck asked with a raise of his eyebrow. "You have nothing to do with this, Blair."

"I have everything to do with it, Chuck."

"No. You won't go near him I'll handle this."

"Chuck," Blair warned. "Tell me what's going on."

"Blair, don't worry about it. Just trust me to handle it, okay?"

"Chuck!"

Chuck sighed. He reached for Blair's hand.

"Blair, I don't want him hurting you," he explained. "I know you want to be a part of this, but please, for my own sanity, let me take care of it."

"At least let me know what you have on Jack," Blair pressed. "I deserve to know that much." Chuck had to admit she had him. She did deserve to know what he knew about Jack, even if he had no plans in letting her anywhere near the son of a bitch.

"To skip over the technicalities of it, he's running a Ponzi scheme that would make Bernie Madoff cringe."

"What are you going to do?" Blair asked, well aware of what a Ponzi scheme was. "Call the authorities?"

"I could," Chuck said. "But an investigation would take entirely too long and quite frankly, his demise would occur at my hand only indirectly and I'm rather anxious to have the pleasure of delivering the final blow myself."

"So what are you going to do?" Blair asked again.

"That's the part I don't know yet," he admitted. "But I will think of something and Jack Bass will go down far further then even I have ever been. For more then just cheating a lot of people out of a lot of money."

"How long has he been doing this?" Blair wanted to know.

"A long time," Chuck answered. "My dad was on to him when he died from what Andrew was able to find out, but didn't have a chance to act before the accident. To be frank, I have reason to believe my father's accident wasn't the accident we all believed it to be." Blair frowned again.

"Are you saying Jack was involved?"

"I can't prove it but I have my suspicions. Jack tried to take away everything that means anything to me. He nearly succeeded. Jack Bass is going to regret the day he ever crossed my path." Chuck's eyes were full of determination and he spoke with fire. Blair sat at his side for several minutes, thinking. Chuck let her be, going over his papers once more.

"Chuck?"

"Hmm?"

"I have an idea," Blair said timidly. "But you're not going to like it."

* * *

**Dun dun dun... **

**And I forgot to mention... I've seen the photos from season 4 filming in Paris and the first thing that popped into my head? He's not Chuck bass without Blair. But if Blair wanted to give me her wardrobe... **


	22. Chapter 22

**Confession: I had this completely done on Tuesday. But I made myself a deal - I wouldn't post it until I had replied to everyone who had reviewed the last 3 chapters at least once. And so, as of today, you *should* have received at least one reply from me, thanking you for being awesome. You could have received more than once because I definitely sent a ton, but if you didn't receive anything at all, I apologize and you can feel free to PM me and demand my gratitude. Trust me when I say it would be fully given. I am so grateful to all of you who read and review and put me on alerts – as someone who loves to write, it means the world to me. That's why I try to reply to as many of you as possible. If you sent me a PM and I haven't replied, please resend it if you'd still like a reply – I managed to get good and turned around with those. Love you all! **

**This chapter... It's interesting. And long. I thought long and hard about how Blair would want to be a part of this. I think one of her greatest strengths is her loyalty to those she loves. She will, as we have seen, do nearly anything for the people she loves, particularly Chuck and Serena. I can see her, even on the show if the writers somehow as seeking out some sort of revenge on Jack at her own hand. And Chuck, we know he wouldn't miss an opportunity to take down his uncle. He also knows Blair better than anyone and I think he would understand her need for revenge if she brought it to him as she does here. So I hope you all like this chapter. It as a bit of a doosey to write, hence the long AN. **

**THINGS I OWN: The most amazing sticky paddle ball game thing ever. No idea what it's called, just that it's really cool. THINGS I DON'T OWN: Gossip Girl.

* * *

**

If the hatch of the unmarked private jet just so happened to fall open and she just so happened to push one Chuck Bass out of it, Blair doubted any of the flight crew would fault her. They'd likely be her alibi and stick to the story about strong air currents and him trying to save her from being sucked out of the plane before he tragically was sucked out himself that she had concocted in her head.

Chuck Bass had singlehandedly driven every single person aboard the jet to insanity since they departed from New York. It was a ridiculously long flight – just a few hours shy of an entire 24 hours – and she was starting to feel claustrophobic in the tight space. She and the flight attendants, whom she normally would have dutifully ignored except when feeling parched, had fled the aircraft with excuses of stretching their legs and fresh air when it had landed for refueling. Blair hadn't even been sure of what country they were in – Poland maybe? Georgia? - but if she had needed the break from Chuck's anxiety-ridden behavior.

She understood, of course. He was not fond of a number of aspects about this trip, nor was she. Instead of working herself up about the scheme they were embarking on however, she had resolved herself to trying to relax on the plane, not seeing much of a point about worrying over it all until they were on solid ground once more. Chuck, however, had spent the last two days as irritable as she had ever seen him, though to give him credit, he had, for the most part, not taken his irritations out on her.

When they boarded the plane – Blair was certain Chuck hadn't slept in at least two days – she had expected him to settle down and sleep like he always did when they flew overseas. Instead, he had shook his leg nervously during takeoff and once at an altitude he deemed acceptable, he had tore off his seatbelt and set to pacing, occasionally stopping to attempt to talk Blair out of the plan. When he inevitably failed, he resumed his pacing or else went to his computer to continue pouring over his files on Jack Bass. He had ran the flight crew ragged, barking orders and snapping unnecessarily. The pilots had long since banned him from their cockpit after he had asked them one too many times if they could speed things along.

"It's too cold," she heard him tell a flight attendant, pushing the glass of soda he had requested just moments earlier back into the girl's hands.

"But sir, you requested it on ice," she tried to explain.

"I said it's too cold!" Chuck repeated. Blair sighed and decided to intervene, taking pity on the poor girl.

"Mallory, is it?" she asked, walking up to the girl. Mallory nodded. She looked terrified. "Mallory, please excuse Mr. Bass. I know my boyfriend has been an insufferable ass for the last how ever many hours we've been on this plane, but he's grieving his stepmother's passing and, well, this trip is not one of leisure. Please accept my apologies for his behavior. And he'll keep the drink."

"Yes ma'am," Mallory nearly whimpered. She handed Blair the drink and hurried towards the back of the plane where she could hide with the other attendant.

"I'm not drinking that," Chuck stated.

"Why? Suddenly develop sensitive teeth?" Blair challenged. She watched Chuck falter to come up with a good reason to justify why he had just been unnecessarily rude. When he couldn't, he took the drink out of her hand and fell into a nearby seat. Blair perched on the arm. "You need to calm down, Chuck. You are wound way too tight."

"Calm down?" Chuck repeated with a tight jaw. "You want me to calm down? Think about what you are getting ready to do. Think about what I'm about to _let_ you do. Do you really think I'm going to calm down?" Blair sighed.

"No," she admitted. "But you could try to rein it in, not make the flight staff – or myself – contemplate seeing if you can fly without a plane to carry you." Chuck shot her a dirty look but didn't retort. He knew he was wound too tight. He knew he was being irrational, rude and an all-around asshole. If things went as he hoped, he planned to reward the flight crew handsomely for putting up with him and then jet off to some exotic local with Blair so they could have some quiet time to truly reconnect. He just had to get through the next 48 hours first.

"I know I'm being difficult and I'm sorry, Blair," he said. "But I hate this plan. I hate everything about it, especially the fact that it's the only thing we have thought of that will work."

"Taking credit for my plan now, are you Bass?" Blair asked with a raised eyebrow. The look he gave her told her not to take her teasing any further. She slipped off the arm and settled on his lap, looping her arms around his neck. "Chuck, it's going to be fine," she assured him. "I'm going to be fine. We're going to bring Jack down and we won't have to worry about him invading our lives ever again." Chuck let out a long sigh and closed his eyes, letting his head fall back against the headrest.

"I meant what I said, Blair. If he so much as lays a hand on you..."

"I know," Blair soothed, remembering the threats of violence Chuck had made. "And he won't."

"He tried to rape Lily, Blair. He may have been behind my father's death. He tried to make me believe my dead mother was alive and well after all these years. He convinced me to pimp my girlfriend out for a piece of property. I don't put anything – anything – past him."

"All I need is a few minutes alone with him. Then you can do – whatever it is you plan to do. I'm not scared, Chuck. Please, just this once, stop trying to protect me and let me do this." Chuck blew out another long breath and opened his eyes.

"It's my job to protect you," he said, running his hand along Blair's leg, up her back and down again. "It's my job to make sure nothing and no one hurts you. I have failed miserably at that job in the past. If there was ever a time to not fail, it would be now. I don't like this."

"I know," Blair said again. She ran a hand through his hair. "But you have to trust me, Chuck."

"It's not you I don't trust," he mumbled, reaching up to rub at his eyes.

"When was the last time you slept?" Blair asked, taking in Chuck's exhausted appearance. His eyes were bloodshot and his hair disheveled. She wasn't sure how he was still managing to stand upright but assumed the copious amounts of coffee and soda he had requested from first the hotel staff then the flight crew had something to do with it. From sleeping pills to stimulants, she mused.

"I have no idea," he answered honestly. "I think I took a cat nap somewhere over the Atlantic."

"Come on," she said, standing and tugging on his arm. "You're going to sleep. We've still got several hours to go and there's nothing else you can do thousands of feet above the ground."

Chuck followed her to the small bedroom on the plane and fell across the bed, suddenly too exhausted to do much else. He felt Blair slip his shoes off, then the bed shifted as she crawled in beside him. He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her to him, her back pressed tightly against his chest.

"I just hope we manage to slip in undetected. If Jack knows I'm with you, this whole trip will be for nothing."

"We didn't take the Bass Industries jet for a reason, remember?" Blair reminded him. She wasn't sure she wanted to know how Chuck had procured a completely unmarked jet so quickly. She knew her boyfriend had connections in the city to people some may consider dangerous or volatile. She also knew too well that he could be dangerous and volatile if he needed to be, but instead of scaring her as it probably should have, she found it strangely comforting.

"Even so, Jack has connections all over Australia."

"We're arriving under the cover of night. I think we'll be fine."

"I hope you're right," Chuck said, nuzzling her neck.

"I always am," Blair assured him. She wished she felt as confident as she sounded. As his soft snores filled the small room, she laid awake, hoping and praying things would indeed go according to plan.

* * *

Blair studied herself in the mirror. The high neck of her dress covered her throat and the hemline hit just above her knees. The fabric hugged her hips. She was going for a modest look but she couldn't afford to look like a nun either. She had twisted her hair into a tight bun, a few wispy pieces of hair framing her face. Her make up was carefully applied and her jewelry was subtle.

She had no idea where Chuck had taken off to, but she was almost grateful for the time away from him. He had made an attempt to rein in his displeasure with the present situation, but he was still irritable. He had tossed and turned for several hours during the night and once he had given up on sleeping, he had spent the remainder of the night pacing and researching in their hotel suite's living area. She needed this quiet time away from him to prepare herself for what she was about to do.

Satisfied with her appearance, she stepped out onto the hotel's balcony. Sydney really was beautiful, she mused. One day she would have Chuck bring her back here so they could enjoy the city properly. She would also remember that the seasons were different as the Australian winter morning chilled her to the bone. The cold air helped her focus though so she remained on the balcony, her arms folded across her providing little warmth.

This was her idea. She had been the one who talked Chuck into following through with it. She knew it was killing him to let her do this, but even he couldn't deny that it was bound to work. Her biggest fear was what would happen if their plan backfired. Chuck was unpredictable when Jack Bass was involved and Blair had no doubt that Chuck would follow through on any one of his threats to end Jack once and for all. Instead of fearing for herself, she was concerned for Chuck, just as he had no regards for his own safety right now, her being his top priority.

If she sat down and told someone the whole sorted tale of her and Chuck, they would call her crazy for what she was about to do. But she wasn't crazy at all. She knew exactly what she was doing and not even Chuck Bass had been able to talk her out of it. She was determined to bring Jack down. She needed to. She and Chuck were back together and working to heal their relationship, but she had a score to settle with Jack and, because she was Blair Waldorf, she had to be the one to settle it. He had hurt her and the people she loved too much, too often, for her to sit idle when his downfall was within reach.

She thought Chuck understood that. He understood how her mind worked because his worked in a similar fashion. Just like her, he was loyal to the people he loved and those who hurt them would fall at his hand. She had appealed to that part of his personality when she had presented him with this plan. He had adamantly refused, not budging for more than a day before she finally wore him down. She knew the only reason he had caved at all was because he did know her so well and knew she needed to be a part of this to help her move on.

"Blair?" Chuck's voice called. Blair turned and hurried back inside, the warmth washing over her once she shut the balcony door behind her. She found Chuck in the living room. He wasn't alone. Two very large, very imposing looking men were standing behind him, both dressed impeccably. She spared them a curious look before turning to Chuck.

"Who are our guests?" she asked him with a raised eyebrow. She had a feeling she was about to find out where he had been all morning. Chuck walked over to her and slid an arm around her. He motioned to the first of the two men.

"This is Brutus," he said. "Jack's secretary called in sick today and Brutus was hired as the temp." Blair looked at Chuck. Apparently he had spent the morning paying people off in between locating the biggest, scariest looking men Australia had to offer. She then turned to give Brutus her signature once over, the pieces falling into place.

"Brutus," she emphasized his name, "looks more like a wrestling champion gone to seed than a secretary." She gave Chuck a pointed look to let her know she was on to him. He merely gazed back at her, aware that she was indeed on to him and not caring.

"Former marine, actually," Brutus spoke in a husky voice, causing Blair to look back at him. He had an American accent. "Special forces. The most elite of the elite. Don't worry Miss Waldorf. You'll be safe with me." Blair looked back at Chuck. He wasn't playing around with her safety this time. She found his overprotectiveness both annoying and endearing.

"And this," Chuck continued, motioning at the second man now, "is Tiny." Blair raised her eyebrow. There was absolutely nothing tiny about the man before her. Tiny tipped an imaginary hat to her.

"Pleasure to meet you, Miss Waldorf. I was a prisoner of war in Afghanistan. This Jack Bass Mr. Bass tells me about is no match for me."

"Good to know," Blair said with a small smile. She turned to Chuck once more. "Chuck? Can I talk to you in the other room?" He nodded.

"Excuse us for a minute," he said to the two men, guiding Blair to the bedroom. Once the door was shut, Blair turned to face him.

"Chuck, you don't think you're taking this to the extreme?" she asked. "Two ex-marines? And what is Tiny's job in all of this, exactly?"

"There is nothing extreme about ensuring your safety," Chuck informed her. "Tiny and Brutus are not up for debate. And to be fair, Tiny was a Green Beret. He'll be joining the custodial staff of Bass Industries today, conveniently cleaning the reception area outside of Jack's office when you arrive." Blair walked up to Chuck and put her hands on his shoulders.

"Chuck, I know you're uncomfortable with this. I know. But I need to do this. I know you know that. It will all be over soon and we can go back home and truly put all of this behind us."

"Uncomfortable hardly covers it," Chuck grumbled. "I know you want to have a hand in bringing him down, but I think we should scratch this whole plan. You can, I don't know, sit in the room when I deliver the news that he'll be spending the rest of his life sharing a prison cell with a man named Bubba."

"No," Blair said firmly. "We're doing this, Chuck. I'm doing this. I deserve the chance to help bring him down." Chuck sighed and pulled Blair to him. They had had this argument time and time again in the few days since she had first proposed this idea of hers and he knew by now there was no changing her mind, especially as he knew exactly how her mind worked. They both wanted a piece of Jack Bass – needed it, even. It may have been sadistic, but it was part of what made them Chuck and Blair.

"When this is done, you and I are disappearing to an island somewhere far, far away for a couple of weeks," he said. "And Blair, I'm warning you now. If I hear so much as a whimper that Jack might be hurting you, if I so much as suspect he's thinking about hurting you, I'm coming in there and I won't be held accountable for my actions."

"Okay," Blair agreed. "I'm assuming you've been in contact with the authorities this morning?"

"I have," Chuck confirmed. "They aren't completely behind this plan either, something about 'civilians' being involved, but they couldn't say no to a sizable donation to the New South Wales police force."

"On the bright side, now we know where you can commit a crime and not go to jail," Blair stated. Chuck grinned just slightly and pulled Blair to his chest.

"I love you," he told her. "So much."

"I know you do," Blair confirmed. "And I love you too, Bass." They shared a short, sweet kiss before Chuck pulled away.

"Come on," he sighed, taking her hand. "Let's get you wired."

* * *

For the first time since she had come up with this plan, she was truly nervous. She felt nauseous as she approached the reception area of Jack Bass's office. As Chuck had said, Brutus was sitting behind the desk, looking completely out of place. He didn't let on that he recognized her. Neither did Tiny who was now dressed in a custodian uniform as he slowly swept the same square of floor repeatedly.

"May I help you?" Brutus asked in a professional voice.

"I'm here to see Jack Bass," Blair answered. She was glad she couldn't hear Chuck who was somewhere nearby with Australia's version of the FBI, listening in through the concealed wire she was wearing. She would lose her nerve for sure if she could hear him. He had made a last ditch effort to stop her when they had parted ways minutes early and had nearly succeeded in convincing her to turn back before she had vividly remembered all the pain Jack had caused.

"Do you have an appointment?"

"No, but tell him Blair Waldorf is here," she ordered. "He'll see me." Brutus nodded at her and picked up the phone to call Jack. Blair looked around in an effort to hide her nerves.

Bass Industries Australia was like night and day from the New York headquarters. The New York office was polished, professional, if not too modern for Blair's taste. The Australia office was warmer, but older and somehow, not as welcoming despite the inviting décor.

"Mr. Bass will see you now," Brutus said. Blair swallowed and took a deep breath. He winked at her as she walked past him. The plan, she knew, was as simple as to scream if she needed help. With another deep breath, Blair pushed open the heavy double doors leading into Jack's office. The bastard was sitting behind his expensive desk in a tailored Armani suit, looking over his tented fingers with beady eyes full of greed.

"Blair Waldorf," he greeted. "Imagine my surprise when my temporary secretary informed me that you were here to see me." Blair forced herself not to cringe as Jack's eyes swept her body appreciatively.

"Jack," Blair replied, careful to make her voice sound casual. "How have you been?"

"Ah, we're exchanging pleasantries now, are we Waldorf?" Jack replied. "Forgive me for being suspicious of your actions, given our last meeting."

"Funny you should mention our last meeting," Blair said with a well-timed smirk. She sashayed right up to Jack's desk, leaning forward over it in an almost provocative manner. "That's what I'm here to see you about."

"Did my nephew send you?" Jack asked almost at once. "I hear the pair of you have resolved your – issues. Which reminds me, pass along my condolences to the van der Woodsen family. Lily was quite a gem." Blair swallowed back the bile that rose in her throat as Jack referred to the woman he had tried to rape.

"I will," she answered in a fake promise. "And Chuck and I, we have 'resolved' our issues as you so eloquently put it." Blair leaned forward over the desk a bit more. Just as she hoped and suspected, Jack leaned towards her, taking her bait. "As a matter of fact, Chuck is, indeed, what brings me to Sydney. However, he didn't send me. He thinks I'm in Paris, visiting with my mother and Cyrus."

Jack looked intrigued. He was falling for her bait, hook and line. Blair hoped the sinker would come sooner rather than later. She was starting to question her plan now that it was in full swing. She felt her heartbeat increase as she prepared to deliver her next line, the line that was, in effect, the sinker to her hook and line. "I came to take you up on the offer you made me the last time we met."

"And what offer was that?" Jack asked, leaning still further forward. Blair knew he was aware of exactly what offer she was talking about.

"Revenge sex," she said. The words were almost painful as she spoke them. Jack grinned like the Cheshire cat.

"Revenge sex," he repeated. His tone was arrogant as he spoke, mockery coloring the edges. "You want to hurt my nephew the way he hurt you."

"Something like that," Blair said, unable to agree. Jack, still smirking, stood and walked around his desk, like a predator stalking his prey. Blair forced herself to not look uneasy as he approached her. Seeing him swagger about his office with such a sense of entitlement made her determination to bring Jack to his knees before Chuck delivered the final blow burned brighter than ever.

"Let's see what I can do to help you out," Jack said. He reached out to put his hand on her thigh, but she was quicker. She dodged him under the impression of wandering around the room, taking in the décor. She was careful to shoot him a devious grin to keep him baited. They were playing a game, just not the one he thought they were playing.

"Tell me something, Jack," she started. "How do you afford such a luxurious lifestyle? No offense, of course, but I've seen the expense reports for Bass Industries. You do, by all means, make a seven figure salary, but even that wouldn't be enough to own yachts and jets and multiple homes the way you do. Is there a business venture on the side you're involved in? Perhaps something not attached to your late brother that you could call your own?" She knew his older brother was a weak spot. Similar to Chuck, Jack had a history of trying to out do Bart Bass. But where Chuck did it out of a need to seek approval, Jack did it for spite. She turned to face him just as a dark look crossed his face. He hid it quickly.

"I invest wisely, Miss Waldorf. I'm sure you know my brother and myself didn't grow up leading this sort of extravagant lifestyle. I've ensured that my legacy will live on. I'm nothing if not business savvy."

"Would it be safe to assume you learned it all from Bart Bass?" Blair asked. "The word on the Upper East Side when you showed up after his death was that you didn't exactly follow in his MBA footsteps. Surely your big brother taught you a thing or two about the business world."

"My brother may have taught me the basics in the beginning, but our relationship grew strained as time wore on and I had to teach myself even more. It's no secret Bart and I had our differences when he passed," Jack replied. Blair sensed caution creeping into his tone. She had to tread carefully in case he was growing suspicious.

"Such an unfortunate end to such a promising legacy," she commented, walking back towards Jack. He watched her hungrily. "One could only imagine the empire Bart Bass would have created had he lived out his life." She continued to hide her discomfort. She needed to get Jack talking. Chuck would only be but so patient before he burst through the door to remove her.

"Unfortunate indeed," Jack said. The smirk that had returned to his face hid so much. "Now, Miss Waldorf, stop being such a tease." He reached out to her, but again, she dodged him, again with a playful smirk.

"Jack, Jack, Jack," she teased. "Let's take it slow. I like my revenge – long and drawn out."

"I like the way you think," Jack agreed. Blair forced herself to close the distance between them, getting close but not quite touching him.

"How do you do it, Jack? How do you turn your millions into billions?" Her voice was sultry, seductive. Jack was drawn in.

"What is this interest in my investments?" he asked in a husky voice. He reached out and put his hands on Blair's waist. She forced herself not to pull away or slap him and thanked God Chuck could only hear and not see. She didn't think he donation to the police force would be enough to get him off on murder charges.

"Look at my boyfriend, Jack. Clearly, I find the discussion of investments and Wall Street a turn on."

"Is that so?" Jack asked, his lips dangerously close to hers.

"It's a little known fact," Blair replied, hoping he was buying it. "Some girls like dirty words and promises of what's to come. I like numbers and figures, dollars and cents. You can tell me, Jack. I'm obviously trustworthy. I haven't told Chuck's secrets, after all." Jack smirked. His nephew did, indeed, keep his cards close to his chest when it came to how he ran his business. He didn't seem to keep his girlfriend as close, however. Or so Jack thought.

"People are fickle, my dear Blair," he started, muttering into her ear. Blair could practically hear the want in his voice. Chuck had mentioned a couple of times that he believed Jack had a sick sort of fascination with her. For the first time, she wondered if he were right. Seducing Jack, getting him to start talking, was too easy. "They will believe anything. People think Bernie Madoff is horrible for what he did. They would be utterly disgusted if they knew what I do, all the millions I cheat people out of. People trust me with their hard earned dollars and I, in turn, increase my bank roll while diminishing their's." Blair scowled in disgust before she put her fake face back on and faced him, shocked it hadn't taken more persuasion than that to get Jack to confess. He was undressing her with his eyes.

"A Ponzi scheme," she stated. "So heartless and yet so brilliant. Has anyone ever come close to finding out?" She was hoping, in his lust-filled haze, he would continue his confessions.

"There have been suspicions," he muttered. "Bart Bass the most suspicious of all. But I've silenced them all. People won't cross me. They know better. Now, Waldorf, let's stop talking. I'm getting anxious." He pulled her against him suddenly, causing her to gasp in surprise. She felt the wire of her device press into her skin, right under his fingers. He felt it too. His eyes clouded with danger. A switch flipped inside of her and she went into fight mode.

"Let go of me!" she said forcefully, pushing against him with all she had.

"You're wired," Jack said, grabbing for her. "You're trying to expose me."

She opened her mouth to scream, but Jack was too quick for her. His hand clamped over her mouth and, with hawk-like eyes, he found the tiny microphone clipped to the inside of her collar. He yanked it off and threw it across the room. "You may have thought sleeping with me was one of the biggest mistakes you've ever made, but I assure you, Waldorf, that crossing me today, will be the single biggest one you make. It will also be the last. Which is a pity, because I do find you rather fascinating." Blair barely had time to feel fear before the double doors burst open.

Out of surprise, Jack let go of her. She backed away from him, tripping over her heels. She watched awestruck as Chuck stormed into the room, Brutus and Tiny behind him, a swarm of blue-clad Australian authorities behind them. She truly understood then how powerful of a man Chuck Bass was. He looked terrifying. Jack must have felt it too, because he moved to put his desk between himself and Chuck as he eyed him with genuine fear.

"Blair, get out," Chuck ordered, his eyes trained on Jack. His tone left no room for argument. Blair wouldn't have if it did. She rushed for the door, heard Chuck order someone to go with her. Brutus followed her out and when she stopped in the reception area, he ordered her to continue down to the lobby of the building, assuring her it would be okay when she balked at leaving Chuck.

She sat nervously on a chaise in the first floor lobby, crossing and uncrossing her ankles, fiddling with the ruby ring on her finger, and constantly pulling at the hem of her dress. A half hour passed and then forty-five minutes. Brutus, who had been casually pacing around the lobby, most likely itching to be nearer to the action, reassured her several times that things were okay. She couldn't be so sure.

She had done it. She had gotten the confession out of Jack that they were looking for and possibly confessions to murder as well. She couldn't celebrate her victory however. She didn't like that Chuck hadn't come for her yet. Even if she had left him with a room full of men with guns who were all on his side, he was with Jack and when they were in the same room as one another with as much hatred as they had for one another, the outcome was unpredictable. She was debating on what her chances of escaping Brutus and going back up to Jack's office to see what was going on were when she heard Chuck's voice.

"Blair."

She was across the lobby and in his arms within seconds. Chuck held her flush against him, murmuring soothing words into her ear and rubbing her back while she clung to him. It took her several moments to realize she was crying.

"What took so long?" Blair asked through her tears. "Where's Jack?"

"Jack is in custody. I personally escorted him and the police out the service entrance. I advised him to breathe deep before the shoved him into the squad car. That was the last breath of fresh air he'll ever get," Chuck said . Blair knew from his tone he was satisfied with the outcome. He pulled away so he could see her better, wiping away her tears with his thumb. "Did he hurt you, Blair? At all? Tell me if he did. I'll be happy to slap him with another charge."

"He didn't hurt me," Blair assured him. "I think he would have if you hadn't burst in when you did." Chuck tightened his grip around her again.

"We were in a van in the parking lot. As soon as he admitted what he did, I came. A 10 story elevator ride has never felt so long."

"He confessed," Blair said, it still sinking in that she really had just helped take down Jack Bass. She suddenly felt light, a weight she hadn't quite realized she was carrying around had fallen away. "It worked."

"It did," Chuck confirmed. He ran a hand up and down Blair's back. "He confessed more than a Ponzi scheme though."

"Murder?" Blair asked, her voice cracking. Even if she couldn't stand the very idea of Jack Bass, it was hard to think of him as a murderer.

"More or less. He paid people to do his dirty work for him." Chuck paused. "He had my dad murdered. The man behind the wheel of the car that hit him was a hit man."

"Chuck," Blair breathed, looking up at him. She had thought as much based on what Jack had said and the suspicions Chuck had shared with her, but hearing Chuck say it made it real.

"At least I know," Chuck said grimly. "I had suspicions, but now I know."

"Can we go back to the hotel?" Blair asked, her arms around Chuck's neck, head on his shoulder. "I don't want to be here anymore."

"We can," Chuck confirmed, pulling away again and taking her hand. "We'll relax this evening, but the authorities want to talk to you tomorrow. Then we'll head home." Blair nodded and allowed Chuck to guide her to the car that would take them away from Bass Industries Australia.

* * *

She was dozing with a copy of the Australian edition of _Vogue_ open at her side when Chuck joined her in bed. He had spent most of the afternoon with her, making sure she was okay and just holding her for both of their benefits. Then, with her assurance that she was okay, he had spent some time after dinner on the phone, putting a temporary head of Bass Industries Australia in place and working with the PR team to come up with a strategy to handle the onslaught of media coverage that was inevitable. He was happy to lay down beside her now, the only thing he had wanted to do since the moment he had pulled away earlier.

"Everything okay?" she asked sleepily when she felt his arms snake around her waist.

"It's in order," Chuck confirmed. "How are you holding up?"

"Fine. Sleepy."

"Hmm," Chuck agreed. Blair turned over and snuggled into Chuck's chest. "I told the pilot to have the jet ready tomorrow evening. We'll leave once you talk with the police." She nodded. Chuck kissed her forehead. "Blair?"

"Hmm?"

"Be honest with me. Are you sure you're okay?" Chuck asked. "You were in a position I can't imagine you wanted to be in."

"It was my idea, Chuck," Blair reminded him. "I knew what I was getting into."

"All the same, you were alone with him. He nearly hurt you."

"I'm fine," Blair said with enough force to emphasize her point. "You aren't the only one who wanted revenge on Jack. He's hurt me – us – one too many times. I was only scared at the end, before you came."

"I'm sorry," Chuck said. Guilt flooded into his expression. "For having to ever even make you want revenge on the bastard."

"Chuck, don't go there," Blair warned him. "Jack is finally out of the picture. It's time for us to put all of it – the lying, Jack, scheming, all of it – behind us and focus on moving forward."

"It is," Chuck agreed. "I meant what I said about us going away. Just me and you. No sadistic uncles or work or anything else. Just me and you. You've still got some time before fall semester. Name the place and we'll go there as early as next week."

"Really?" Blair asked.

"Really." She thought for a minute, weighing her options.

"I've always wanted to go to Bora Bora," she finally said. "How about there?"

"Bora Bora it is," Chuck agreed. "I'll start making arrangements tomorrow. All you need to do is pack."

Blair smiled and cuddled still closer to Chuck.

"Make sure you have that little piece of black plastic on you, Bass," she said, referencing his black American Express. "You owe me a few makeup presents still." He chuckled.

"You name it, it's yours," he said. He kissed her hair and fell into a blissful, nightmare-free sleep, the weight of the world finally off his shoulders as the love of his life slept soundly on his chest.

* * *

**One more update and then an epilogue and an outtake to follow. I can tell you the last update will be full of Chair goodness. I'm pretty excited about it myself. I'll also be writing another story after this. I had initially said I'd continue my one shot and I still may, but I have some other ideas in my head. The one-shot continuation would be angsty and personally, I'm a sucker for it and I love to write it, but I have a couple of other pre-limo and AU ideas I'm tossing around too. Your input is always welcome! **


	23. Chapter 23

***Tear* Here we have the final chapter. A short epilogue will be posted in the next day or two and then an outtake soon after that. Honestly, I kind feel like I'm... Sending a child off to college or something, ending this story. Now I know how my mother felt when I packed my bags and headed for another state. Or not, but you get the idea. I think – hope – this ties up everything. It's fluffy and light and I think I write angst better, but I'm happy with it. I'm also once again behind in replying to reviews, but I hope you all know how much I appreciate each and every one of you. Your enthusiasm is what has kept me writing and made me want to keep writing fics. I'll be starting something new – most likely the continuation of my one shot – after I post the outtake. You can keep up with that if you put me on author alerts. :) **

**I don't normally do shout outs because I love all of you and it's hard to shout out to all of you, but I just had to give fouzia269 a holler. She read nearly this whole thing in one day and left a sweet review most every chapter. She's also French so I had one of my 'holy crap, people are reading this outside of North America' moments too. It amazes me that this thing is literally being read globally. I look at the statistics page and haven't even heard of some of these countries so – well, all I can say is WOW! Thank you all so much! **

**THINGS I OWN: The ants that decided to crawl all over me while I was working on my tan. They are no longer with us as I owned them with my Cosmo. THINGS I DON'T OWN: Gossip Girl.

* * *

**

Chuck raised an eyebrow. He was reading one of Blair's magazines and he wondered how she would take it if he ripped out the article and circled his favorite parts. Seeing as they hadn't slept together since their reunion, he felt justified in his thinking that she would roll her eyes and make him wait even longer. So instead, he turned the page, flipping it once more when realized the article was about eye makeup.

Blair was dozing face down in her lounge chair, the sun caressing her back. Free to let his eyes roam, Chuck had taken in her bikini-clad form more than once now and he had fully enjoyed it when she had let him rub her down with sunscreen. He reasoned he would wake her up soon so she could turn over and work on evening out her tan, conveniently providing him with a new view in the process.

Bora Bora was exactly what they had needed. They had been on the island three days now and Chuck could feel the shift in their relationship. The last bricks of the wall that had been between them since the night Jack returned to New York had fallen away and it finally felt like they were genuinely back together, the worst of their past finally and truly behind them.

The week they spent in New York following Jack's arrest in Australia had been busy. They had looked at a couple of apartments before they had left for Sydney, but both of them had been so distracted that they were a blur and so the apartment hunting had started in earnest. He had ended up giving Blair free rein in finding him a place because of the fall out from Jack's Ponzi scheme and the impact it had on Bass Industries. While he had been smoothing things over, Blair had found what she had deemed the perfect place. It had views of Central Park, the Hudson and Fifth Avenue, floor to ceiling windows that let light pour in, an open floor plan and, conveniently, one of the biggest walk-in closets Chuck had ever seen. It was also close to Bass Industries. He had spent a small mint on the place, but it was worth it. Something told him it would be his home – and one day, Blair's – for a long time to come.

Jack Bass was no longer a threat. Chuck had ensured he would be spending the rest of his life behind bars, for both the embezzlement plot and his part in the murders of not only his father but of two Australian agents who had suspected him of wrongdoing. The investigation to find the people Jack had paid to do his dirty work was underway. It felt good to know there was finally a clear path ahead of him, that he could finally live the simple life he now longed for – days full of business meetings for him and classes for Blair, followed by evenings together and mornings waking up beside one another. He wasn't so naive as to believe things would always go smoothly, but he trusted now that he and Blair would always have one another.

"Mmmm," Blair moaned, stretching her arms out over her head. She turned onto her back and stretched again. Chuck shamelessly stared as her body curved and she sighed happily. "How long was I asleep?" she asked.

"About a half hour," Chuck said, closing her magazine. "I picked up some tips while you were dreaming." Blair grinned.

"The great Chuck Bass, looking for sex tips?" she teased. "I never thought I'd see the day." Chuck smirked.

"I'm always looking to expand my repertoire," he retorted, making Blair laugh. He couldn't help but watch her with a smile on his face, mesmerized by the fact that she was actually his. She noticed and returned his gaze with a soft smile.

"What is it, Bass?" she finally asked. "Enjoying the view?"

"Something like that," he answered. He reached across the small space between their chairs and took her hand. "More like wondering at the fact that you are mine." Her smile dazzled him. She pushed herself up from the chair and he reached for her greedily as she straddled him.

"And you are mine," she said, leaning down to kiss him. He returned her kiss hungrily, pushing his luck as his hands roamed her body. She only pulled away when he tried to slip his hand under her bikini top. "Chuck," she warned. He groaned, aware that she had to know how badly he wanted her in that moment. His swim trunks weren't but so thick and her bikini bottoms were even thinner.

"You're killing me, Blair," he groaned, pushing himself to an upright position. She was still in his lap, her legs now wrapped around his waist. Her arms wound around his neck.

"We're taking it slow, Bass, remember?"

"Then may I recommend not climbing on top of me when both of us are scraps of fabric away from being naked?" Blair laughed.

"Some things will never change," she stated, looking at Chuck fondly. Even if he had been warned just moments ago, he couldn't help himself. He traced the edge of her bikini, watching her as goosebumps erupted across her skin as his fingers skimmed along the top of the cup of her bikini.

"Would you want that particular part of me to change?" he asked.

"Only when I'm not in the mood," Blair retorted, causing Chuck to smirk.

"You know, Waldorf, I think I'm going to take a dip in the ocean."

Blair scoffed. "Have fun," she replied, climbing off of him and moving to settle back on her chair. Chuck wasn't letting her off that easily.

"Come with me," he proposed.

"No."

"Come on, Blair. You're in Bora Bora. You have to swim in the ocean at least once."

"I got my feet wet in it when we went for a walk last night. That's as close to swimming in the ocean as I'll get." She hated what salt water did to her hair and the way sand clung to her wet skin. There was a reason they had a pool at their villa.

"Come with me," Chuck tried again, standing up and leaning over her, a hand on either arm of her chair as he peered down at her. "If you won't let me see you out of the bikini, at least let me see you wearing it while dripping wet." Blair looked over the top of her big sunglasses at him.

"Is that supposed to make me want to get out of this chair?" she asked.

"Yes," Chuck nodded. It made absolute sense to him. Blair rolled her eyes.

"You are incorrigible, Chuck Bass. And this bathing suit is for looks only. It's not meant to get wet." Chuck scowled.

"That is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard," he informed her. "You're getting in the water, Blair."

"No."

Chuck sighed. She asked for it, he mused, just before he bent down and scooped her up, effortlessly tossing her petite frame over his shoulder.

"Chuck!" she squealed, kicking her feet and smacking at his back with her hands. "Put me down!"

"Stop hitting me. You're going to leave a bruise," he replied as he walked towards the water.

"Bass! I'm not playing around! Put me down!" Chuck ignored her as he walked out into the crystal blue water. "Chuck Bass! Take me back to dry land and put me down!"

"As you wish," Chuck said, tossing her outward. She landed in the ocean with a splash. She came up sputtering and spitting mad. Chuck was doubled over laughing.

"I hate you!" she exclaimed, making to storm back to the shore. He grabbed her arm as she tried to pass him.

"Not so fast, Waldorf," he said, pulling her further into the ocean, ignoring her as she cursed and struggled. The ocean was calm, gentle waves rolling around them. They had the beach to themselves, part of their private villa Chuck had rented for them for the next two weeks. He wanted to enjoy his time with her and in his mind, that involved having her in the ocean with him. He had a lot of fantasy, in fact, of the things they could do in this ocean. If they weren't taking it slow, of course.

"If you thought we were going to take it slow before, wait until you see how slow we go now," Blair threatened.

"Your bark is worse than your bite," Chuck retorted. He knew he was right when Blair didn't fight him as he pulled her to him.

"Don't try me, Bass," she said, even as she wrapped her legs around Chuck's waist and let him support her in the water.

"You won't be able to resist me much longer," Chuck informed her. "I know what buttons to push."

"You can't push them if I don't let you."

Chuck's answer was to kiss her. She tried to pull away, but he placed his hand on her cheek and steered her face back to him. He kissed her again and was happy when she started kissing him back. He heard her moan and tightened his grip on her.

"Still mad?" he asked between kisses.

"Yes" Blair replied breathlessly. Chuck grinned.

"You should be mad like this more often."

"Basshole," Blair breathed before she kissed him again.

* * *

It was well past midnight, but he hadn't fallen asleep yet. Blair was asleep on his chest, her hand resting over his heart. He had an arm around her, his hand tangled in her hair. He kissed her forehead and sighed with contentment, happy to just lay there and watch her sleep until he himself drifted off. But Blair stirred at the contact of his lips and blinked her eyes open.

"You're still awake?" she asked groggily.

"Just thinking," he replied. "Go back to sleep." He should have known she wouldn't. She lifted her head so she could look at him.

"About what?" she inquired.

"You," he answered honestly. He played with her hair. "And me. Lily. My dad. Everything." Blair wore a soft expression on her face as she reached up and brushed his hair away from his forehead.

"You can talk to me," she told him. "If you want to." He knew she desperately wanted him to despite how casual she had been in mentioning it.

"I was just thinking about how unbelievable it is that you gave me another chance," he admitted. As the days since Lily's death had wore on, he had spent a lot of time going down this road, marveling at the fact that Blair had really came back to him, that he had really received still one more chance. He couldn't fathom why, but he also knew not to question it. Don't look a gift horse in the mouth or whatever the saying was.

"You fought for me," Blair answered. "When I doubted you more than I ever have, you fought for me. I needed for you to do that and you did." Chuck tightened his grip on her. It hurt to hear her say she had doubted him. He vowed she never would again.

"I will always fight for you, Blair," he told her. "I can't survive without you."

"You could," she reasoned.

"No," he said firmly. "I couldn't. I nearly didn't."

"It's all behind us," she said with resolution. "Once and for all." She snuggled closer and he was all too happy to hold her.

"You realize this is it, right?" he asked. "That you and I are forever? Neither of us are going to kiss anyone else or make love to anyone else... It's just the two of us, from here on out."

"I'm more fine with that than you will ever know," Blair told him. "But what about you? You are Chuck Bass." Chuck placed a soft kiss against her hair. He knew her insecurity issues and he knew too that right now, he was still earning her trust. However unfounded her insecurity was, he would always reassure her.

"Having been with you and then been without you, I wouldn't have it any other way," he said. "I love you, Blair. You will never know how much." They fell into silence for several long moments. It was dark, but Chuck could tell by her breathing that Blair was still awake.

"Tell me about the time we weren't together," she said into the darkness.

"You don't want to hear about that, Blair," he replied. "It wasn't a good place."

"You made me tell you about what happened that night with Jack," Blair reminded him. Chuck sighed. The word 'no' was simply not in his vocabulary when it came to Blair.

"Remember how I was after my dad died?" She nodded. "I was like that, but worse. I didn't leave the penthouse at all between the night of Dorota's wedding and the day I came to see Amelia at the hospital. I was drinking a bottle of scotch a night, sometimes more. If I didn't take sleeping pills, I would have those nightmares like the one I had in the hospital the night before Lily died. I just took one or two at first, but they stopped working so I started talking more. Sometimes I would wake up a few hours after taking two or three and so I would take some more. I was entirely lost, Blair. Nothing in my life had meaning."

"You could have died, mixing sleeping pills and alcohol, especially as many pills and as much alcohol as you were consuming. Did you think at all, Chuck?" Blair scolded. "What would I have done if you had died?"

"We both know I get irrational when distraught," he said pointedly. "My prior actions speak volumes to that point. And to be fair, I thought you hated me, Blair."

"Meaning?" Blair pressed. She knew what he meant, but she wanted to hear him say it.

"Meaning I didn't care if I lived or died," he admitted. "My life is utterly empty without you. If you hadn't found it in you to give me one more chance, I doubt I would have made it through Lily's death. That would have been the final nail in my own coffin."

"Don't talk like that," Blair chided.

"I'm just telling you the truth," Chuck said. "But you gave me another chance – another chance most sane, rational people wouldn't have given me – and things are going to be different this time."

"They already are," Blair said, toying with whether she was going to take offense to the sane and rational comment. "You're talking to me now instead of shutting down and you let me be there for you during Lily's death. And you didn't even bring your laptop with you and the only time you've made any phone calls was to check on things back home."

"I can't shut you out anymore. I used to think it made me weak, to have you so close. Now I realize that's where I draw my strength from." Blair kissed his cheek, moved by his words, and then settled her head on his shoulder to listen. "As for work, work is important, but you will never take a backseat to it again," Chuck vowed. "And down the road, when we have kids, they won't know what it's like to have a father who spends more time at the office than he does tucking them in at night and reading them bedtime stories." His last comment made Blair raise her head from his chest.

"Kids?" she inquired. They had never talked about the future more than a few weeks in advance. Blair had hoped, of course, that she and Chuck would one day wind up married with a mess of Bass babies, but the idea of having a girlfriend had nearly scared Chuck stiff so she had held her tongue about anything future-related that didn't involve making dinner plans.

"Kids, marriage, forever... All words that didn't exist in my dictionary until you came along," Chuck admitted. "I know you want all of those things and to think that I can be the one who gives you those things, makes you happy... Well, that's what I want." Blair couldn't say anything as she blinked back tears. She leaned up and gave him a soft kiss.

"One day," she told him when she pulled away, letting him know she wasn't expecting a diamond right then and there, let alone a kid. She stifled a yawn.

"Go back to sleep," Chuck whispered, feeling tired now himself. "Tomorrow, we'll venture out to some of those boutiques we saw when we were checking in. I've still got make up gifts to buy if I'm not mistaken." Blair laughed softly as she settled onto his chest once more.

"You sure do."

* * *

"Chuck!"

"What?" Chuck replied, wandering into the living room. Blair was digging through the jewelry she had brought with her, earrings and necklaces flying in different directions. "Our reservations are in 10 minutes. We're already going to be late. Are you going to be ready anytime soon?"

"I can't find my necklace," she stated, still digging. Chuck wondered idly why she had bothered to bring so much of it with her seeing as they were spending most of their days in bathing suits.

"Which necklace? You aren't exactly lacking in the number of strings you have to adorn your beautiful neck with."

"The Erickson Beamon," Blair told him. "The one you gave me for my seventeenth birthday. It was at your place when we broke up and I bought all the jewelry I had there here with me. It's not here though." There was a note of panic in her voice. Chuck smiled and walked up behind her, reaching into his pocket.

"You mean this one?" he whispered, slipping it around her neck. He watched her reflection in the mirror as a big smile spread across her face.

"This one," she confirmed, reaching to touch the delicate heart hovering just above her own. Chuck kissed her cheek and lightly ran his hands up and down her arms. Blair turned to him. "Why was it in your pocket?"

"Remember when we talked in the park that day?"

"Or fought," Blair corrected, remembering their failed attempt at talking about their relationship in Central Park. "There wasn't a whole lot of talking."

"No," Chuck agreed. "There wasn't. But we said what needed to be said. After you left, I stayed for a while, trying to figure out what had just happened. I didn't get anywhere so I went to the first bar I found and started drinking. When I came home, it was really late and I was really drunk. I had given up on us at that point. I threw a photo of us and then I saw your jewelry box. It was like it was mocking me. So I threw that too and your jewelry went everywhere.

"The next morning, when I was sober and my head was on a bit straighter, I saw your necklace. I've been carrying it around in my pocket, waiting for the right moment to put it back where it belongs. You aren't the only one who has a heart they give to the person they trust with it, Blair."

Blair looked up into his eyes, her hands resting on his chest.

"Is now the right moment?" she asked softly.

"It's the perfect moment," he confirmed. He leaned down and kissed her, first softly, then with a little more passion. He was nearly breathless when she broke away.

"Sit," she directed, backing him to the bed. He watched her walk across the room and start searching through her purse. She turned after a few moments and walked back to him with a small smirk on her face, her eyes sparkling. Not for the first time, he was struck by how beautiful she was.

"You're beautiful," he told him, causing her to smile bigger as she sat down beside him, a faint blush making it's way to her cheeks.

"Thank you," she replied, almost shy. She played with something in her hand. Chuck didn't dare hope it was what he thought it might be. "Remember the day you came to my place and made that grand speech about how you were going to fight for me?" Chuck nodded, his throat suddenly tight. She had no idea how hard that speech had been for him to deliver when all he had wanted to do was hold onto her until she took him back. "I cried after you left, after you had given me back my heart pin. I didn't know if we would ever be okay again or if we were over for good.

"But Chuck, you fought for me. You fought hard. I know I didn't make it easy on you, either." Chuck had to chuckle. It was completely true after all. "You vowed to earn my heart back and Chuck, you have. We're still working on our relationship – and if we do this right, we'll always be working on our relationship – but you have more than earned my heart again." She opened her hand then and showed him the heart pin. He found it was hard to swallow.

"I brought this with me with the intention of giving it back to you before we left this place. I guess I've been waiting for the right moment too. And this is it." She reached for Chuck's hand and dropped the pin into it, then closed his hand around it. "Be careful with it," she told him before kissing his closed hand. Chuck took a shaky breath, amazed that he was this emotional over a piece of metal.

"I love you," he breathed out. He leaned in and kissed her hard.

"Chuck," she breathed, pulling him to her. He kissed her for several long moments before he pulled away and looked down at the pin in his hand.

"You don't know what this means to me," he told her. He took her hand and kissed the back of it. "It's safe with me, now and forever."

"I wanted to give it to you this time instead of sneaking it into your wallet. After that speech you gave me, now that I know how much it meant to you to have it, I wanted to give it to you myself. You can put it back in your wallet or keep it in your dresser drawer or whatever, just as long as you know you have it."

Chuck smiled. "I think I know just the place," he said. He pushed up the sleeve of his light suit jacket and carefully pinned the heart to the inside of his shirt sleeve. He looked back at Blair to see her beaming. "I would say I'd leave it there, but I can't wear the same shirt every day. Seeing as I want to have this with me all the time, I'll put it back in my wallet after tonight, but for tonight, I'll wear your heart on my sleeve."

Blair lunged at him then, all thoughts of dinner reservations gone from both of their heads. Chuck found her straddling his lap, not sure how she got from his side to his lap, but he wasn't going to complain. Her dress was hiked up high on her thighs and he couldn't stop his hands from wandering. He didn't stop either when Blair pushed him back on the bed and crawled on top of him.

"Chuck," she breathed against his neck. The sound of her voice brought him back to a hazy reality. He flipped them over so he was hovering over her, his hands interwoven with hers as he held them above her head.

"Blair, I want you," he told her honestly. "But if you want to stop, if you're not ready to go this far, tell me. Ideally before we're both wearing significantly less clothing and my hopes – and other body parts – aren't raised."

Blair looked up at him and the peaceful expression on her face blew him away. "I want you too," she confirmed. "Please, Chuck, don't stop." That was all he needed to hear.

* * *

Chuck held Blair's hand as the limo rolled to a stop in front of his new residence. He looked up at the building and felt a sense of calm wash over him.

"This is – strange," Blair stated, noticing Chuck's expression.

"What's so strange about it?" he asked, turning to face her. He smiled softly at her. Her skin was a nice shade of bronze and her hair was loose around her shoulders, a bit disheveled from both the long flight and Chuck's hands. Her outfit was more casual than she usual wore, if Chanel sundresses could be considered casual. She looked beautiful, fresh from their flight from Bora Bora.

"We won't be going to The Empire anymore," she said. "I mean, I knew that, but it's just strange to pull up to a new building and know the hotel is a thing of the past."

"That's a good thing," Chuck told her. He brought her hand to his lips. "I finally feel like I'm where I belong."

Blair smiled softly. "You are where you belong, Bass. With me." Chuck laughed softly and pulled Blair to him for a quick kiss. His eyes briefly fell on the necklace around her neck. She had seldom taken it off since he had put it back there. He himself had taken out his wallet for more often than usual, just to feel his fingertips brush against her pin and remind himself that he once again had her heart.

"Come on, Waldorf," he said, tapping the window to let Arthur know to open the door. "Let's go christen my new place." Blair gave him a devilish smirk and allowed him to help her out of the car.

Hand and hand, they said a polite hello to Chuck's new doorman and took the elevator to the top floor. Chuck opened the door to his apartment for Blair who wandered in, taking in the space once more. The furniture had been placed about, but there were still boxes of things Chuck had ordered to not be unpacked – things he wanted to do himself, including the box of his father's journals. He wandered into the dining area, looking for the box he had asked to be left on the table there.

"You'll need to hire a decorator," Blair was saying as she wandered. "These drapes the previous owners left simply won't due." He smirked. That was Blair-speak for 'I'll be redoing this place so it's up to my standards.' He would let her too, except for maybe the room he had chosen as his study. The apartment, after all, would be her home as well one day. He found the box he was looking for and opened it. He had placed what he needed directly on top so he would be able to find it when they returned from Bora Bora.

"Blair?" he called when he realized he no longer heard her ramblings about drapes and wall colors.

"The terrace is fantastic for outdoor entertaining," she replied, reappearing in the living room from wherever she had been. "You didn't utilize the outdoor space at the hotel for that sort of thing. I think it would be nice to have Serena and Nate over, maybe a few others, dine outside, maybe have cocktails."

"I'm giving you free rein to decorate this place however you see fit," Chuck replied, figuring he may as well let her know now instead of later, if for no other reason than silencing her not so subtle hints of wanting a say in decor. She beamed at him.

"This is your place," she said despite her obvious joy at being allowed to help. "You should make the decisions." Chuck raised an eyebrow. At least she attempted to pretend he had a say so.

"All I ask is that we keep the pink to a minimum and that I get full say of my study."

"Of course," Blair replied, turning on the spot, likely formulating ideas. She would have a decorator in by this time tomorrow, Chuck was sure of it. He took her hand and led her to one of the sofas.

"Blair, I haven't always been the best at letting the people I love get close to me," he said. Blair noticed what he had in his hand. She looked back at him, remaining silent as he continued. "I used to blame that on my father – and he does have some responsibility for the walls I put up around me – but I've come to know that my father, while he was a lot of the things people thought he was, wasn't the uncaring father I thought he was. He just didn't know how to show feelings, especially after my mother died. I get that. I get what it's like to lose your one true love." He shared a meaningful look with Blair as he passed her the book in his hands. She took it gingerly, as though it were a rare artifact.

"I learned a lot about not just my dad but about myself while reading his journals. I still have his last entries to read, but it would mean a lot to me if you would read these too, when you have time between all the studying you'll be doing soon. It's – my way of letting you in, I guess, helping you understand why I am the way I am, especially why I was the way I was before."

Blair carefully held the book in her hands. Chuck had read to her from the journals over the phone once and she knew from little things he had said that they had played a big part in the growing he had clearly done in the last few months. She felt as though she had just been presented with the greatest of honors as she ran her finger along the leather-bound spine.

"Are you sure?" she heard herself asking.

"Completely," Chuck nodded. He motioned to the book she was holding. "This is the first one. The rest of them will be put on shelves in my study once the unpacking is done. Help yourself to them as you need to."

Blair slid closer to Chuck and rested her head on his shoulder, unsure of what to say and so choosing to say nothing at all. He put an arm around her and picked up her hand, tangling his fingers with hers. The small gesture made her smile.

"Chuck and Blair, holding hands," she quipped. Chuck smirked.

"What do you say I take you to a movie later, Waldorf? We'll even hold hands."

Blair's laughter was all he needed to hear.


	24. Epilogue

**This is it. The end. I could cry. I'm getting ready to leave to go home for two weeks – I'll have all kinds of time to write while home, too far out in the country to do much else! - but I wanted to get this posted before I left Nashville. I'd hoped to get it posted earlier as well as the outtake, but there was a tornado (I'm fine!) on Monday and with winding down my internship and packing, I didn't have much free time. This is full of fluff and love and happy and I giggled reading it, so I hope you all like it. **

**I'll be replying to all of your reviews this weekend, but I wanted to say thank you once more for making this story such a success. I loved writing it and I hope you all loved reading it. Stay tuned for much more. :) Thank you all again – much love for ALL of you! **

**THINGS I OWN: Far too many sorority t-shirts. THINGS I DON'T OWN: Gossip Girl

* * *

**

As Blair blinked her eyes open, she realized two things almost instantaneously. Firstly, by just a hair, she realized she had woken up to silence. Secondly, and far more disturbing than the silence she was no longer accustom to waking up to, was the fact that the bassinet that had held her soundly sleeping infant daughter when she had closed her eyes two hours earlier was now empty. She wasted no time in rushing from the bedroom and down the staircase, hoping, praying, that Dorota had the child. What she saw as she rushed into the living room made her stop in the door frame.

"See this one?" Chuck was saying to the tiny bundle of pink and yellow resting on his shoulder, as he pointed to a photo on the fireplace mantle, "This one is me and your mommy on our wedding day." Blair stepped into the shadows so she could watch them without his knowledge, a soft smile on her face. Though only a week old to the day, their daughter had Chuck wrapped around her bitty finger. "I tricked her into marrying me," he continued. "Or maybe she tricked me into marrying her. Either way, marrying your mommy is the smartest thing I ever did. It got me your mommy and you." Blair's heart melted as Chuck placed the softest of kisses on the baby's tuft of brown hair.

"This one? This is one of my favorites. This is your grandma, Lily. She would have loved you so much. Aunt Serena is a lot like her, more than she would ever admit. But you know what? Even if Grandma Lily isn't here, she's still watching over you, keeping you safe. And maybe your other grandma, grandma Elizabeth, and your grandpa Bart are too." Blair wiped at the dampness in her eyes as she listened to Chuck talk in a hushed voice of his deceased parents. He picked up another picture and chuckled.

"I don't know why your mom insists on keeping this one around," he continued. "We were in high school in this one. The non-judging breakfast club, your mom named us. I promise we were quite fashionable when this was taken. Me in pink argyle, Uncle Nate with his bangs, Aunt Serena playing the role of saint. And your mom with that obnoxiously large headband. Though I do have a certain regard for a certain headband..." Chuck trailed off as he adjusted the baby in his arms. "Remind me to tell you when you're older why you should never, ever, under any circumstance, get into limos with boys." Blair bit her lip to keep her laughter from escaping. She wasn't a fortune teller but she knew enough about Chuck Bass to know his daughter would, if he had his way, live the most sheltered of lives. Of course, she was their child and if she wanted to ride in limos with boys, she would undoubtedly do it, just as her mother and father had before her.

"See these two photos?" he was asking now, turning to the side so the baby, who Blair wasn't sure even had her eyes open, was facing the mantle. "These people are your family. This one is your mom's side of the family. That's grandpa Harold and grandpa Roman. And this is grandma Eleanor and grandpa Cyrus. Eleanor wants you to call her Nan or something like that, but I want you to call her grandma, just because it'll make her mad and daddy enjoys seeing grandma Eleanor fuming. But don't tell mommy that." Blair had to fight again to keep her laughter concealed as she listened in.

"Mommy's side of the family is a little strange. People might ask why you have so many grandpas. Just tell them it's because you're loved more than they are." Blair rolled her eyes. Chuck would tell their child to say something like that. "Oh and these people? These people are really important. That's Dorota and Vanya and Amelia. They might help take care of us, but they're family all the same, especially Amelia. She's me and mommy's goddaughter. She's going to be an extra special friend to you as you grow up." Chuck turned his attention to the second of the two family photos.

"The people in this photo? This is daddy's side of the family. This is Rufus. You can call him grandpa if you want to. I think he would like that. And this is your aunt Jenny. Whatever you do, don't take makeup tips from her. Or hair tips. Or tips about anything else for that matter. I'm not sure all the wires connect in that mind of hers." Blair silently agreed with everything he had said about Little J.

"This is Dan. He's a famous writer now. We used to not get along all that well, but he's not that bad. You can refer to him as your uncle but I'd prefer it if you called him 'Brooklyn.' Uncle Brooklyn would due as well." Blair bit down on her fist to contain the laughter.

"And this is Uncle Eric. Uncle Eric can be your second favorite uncle, but we'll tell him he's your favorite – but make sure Uncle Nate can't hear you before you say that though because he'll get offended. This guy? He's Uncle Eric's boyfriend." Chuck stopped for a second. "You're really going to have a rough time explaining your family tree," he told the baby. "Grandpas with life partners, uncles with boyfriends, aunts that look like raccoons... Just tell them you're a Bass and that should scare them off from questioning you any more. If it doesn't, tell me and daddy will fix it.

"Anyway, the last two people in this photo are the most important. This is Aunt Serena and Uncle Nate. They are your godparents. They're going to get married when Uncle Nate finishes his law degree. He's going to be my lawyer when he finishes. After the stunts his dad pulled, he knows more about the legal system then you would think. I guess the blond hair and lack of common sense keeps people from finding out he's actually not that dumb." The baby fussed. Blair made to step forward, but Chuck cooed to her softly and bounced her ever so lightly, quieting her down within moments.

"You must have gotten a good look at Uncle Dan's plaid shirt," he said. "Uncle Nate wears them too, but at least Uncle Nate pays a notable price for his. Uncle Dan still likes to buy his at thrift stores despite the influx of money into his bank account after two bestsellers. But he's still dating Miss Save the World Vanessa so clearly his tastes have not changed despite his upgraded social class.

"Aunt Serena though, she's a good one to go to for advice. Well, maybe. You should probably go to me or mommy first, or maybe Dorota, but Aunt Serena is good for that stuff too. She's a publicist for an entertainment firm. She gets all dressed up and goes to red carpet events all the time and gets her clients out of jail before the press finds out. But she's got a good heart and she's been just a like a sister to your mom for as long as I can remember." Chuck paused. "She was there for you mommy when I wasn't."

Blair's smile fell slightly. Everything that had happened with the hotel and Jack was years behind them and yet she knew there was a small part of Chuck that held tightly to those memories, carried them as reminders of all he stood to loose and everything he had learned along the way. She herself barely gave them thought anymore, preoccupied with first school then wedding planning and most recently, the baby. She looked at those memories as battle scars, proof that she and Chuck had fought for one another and always would. She remained in the shadows as he carefully sat down on the sofa. He propped his feet up on the coffee table and left the baby resting on his chest.

"Do you have any idea how much I love you, Charlee Bass?" he asked the infant. "Because I do. You and your mommy mean absolutely everything to me. I promise you, you will never for a moment know what it's like to have a parent who you think doesn't love you." Blair watched him as a soft smile played across his lips and the most peaceful expression fell over his face. Their daughter was the one thing in this world, Blair realized, that Chuck loved more than her. And she was more than okay with that. It was, in her opinion, how it was supposed to be.

She was content to watch them for as long as she could get away with it. The loves of her life sitting quietly together on the sofa was far more entertaining than anything else she could think of. But Charlee had other ideas. She started whimpering and within moments, she was wailing.

"What's the matter, princess?" Chuck asked, moving the baby from his shoulder so he could cradle her in his arms.

"She's probably hungry," Blair said, walking into the room. "She didn't eat much before she fell asleep." She sat down next to Chuck and he passed the baby off to her. It was his turn to watch in awe as Charlee's cries fell to whimpers and then ceased, the only sound the quiet suckling as she ate. Chuck smiled and leaned in to kiss Blair's cheek.

"She wanted her mommy," he commented.

"She wanted her mommy's chest," Blair corrected.

"One more thing she got from me." Blair rolled her eyes.

"Isn't enough that she's nearly your spitting image and is named after you?"

"She's a Bass," Chuck answered with a shrug.

"You do realize that the second you tell her she can't ride in limos with boys, she'll be paying off the driver with daddy's money so he doesn't tell on her when she stops to pick up whatever boy has her attention that week? She is, after all, a Bass." Blair looked at Chuck with a raised eyebrow.

"You were eavesdropping," Chuck realized.

"I was," Blair confirmed. "You did not trick me into marrying you either."

"Then you tricked me," Chuck bantered. "But either way, it worked out in the absolute best way possible." He leaned in to give Blair a quick kiss while the baby nursed.

"It did," Blair agreed, smiling down at her baby. She looked back to Chuck. "You're home much earlier than I thought you would be. It's barely three in the afternoon."

"I missed you two," Chuck confessed with a bit of a sheepish grin. It had been his first day back at work since the birth of his daughter and all he had been able to think about was his little girl and his wife, at home without him. "I have some stuff that has to get done tonight, but I thought I'd work from home, be here if you needed anything since you insisted Dorota take the day off." Blair smiled at him.

"This is where I should probably encourage you to go back to the office and tell you we'll be fine, but I'm too selfish to do that," she said.

"It's not being selfish if there's no place I'd rather be," Chuck countered. "How are you feeling, by the way? If you want to finish your nap after she's eaten, she can hang out in my office with me."

"I'm fine," Blair said. "My nap earlier will hold me over until bedtime and maybe I can get a few hours of sleep before she wakes up again. By the way, it scared me to death to wake up and see her gone from her bassinet." Chuck grinned with a bit of guilt.

"You looked so peaceful sleeping that I didn't have the heart to wake you. I know too well how sleep deprived you are. I'm right there with you. I was going to lay down with you, but Charlee was awake when I checked on her so we came down here and did a little daddy-daughter bonding."

"I thought the daddy-daughter bonding was rather sweet."

"Being a daddy's girl yourself, I'm sure you did," Chuck replied, but with a smile to show her he was joking. Blair rolled her eyes and started fussing over the baby's tiny outfit. Chuck grew silent, watching the love of his life feed the life their love had created. Even now, almost five years after he had made what would forever be the single biggest mistake of his life, he still marveled at the fact that Blair Waldorf had given him another chance. And somewhere along the way, she had become his wife and given him the one gift that was more precious than anything they could buy.

"You okay?" Blair asked, noticing his silence. She moved the baby to her shoulder as she finished her meal and gently patted her back, waiting for her to burp.

"She's going to ask about us one day," he said. "She'll want to know our story."

"We tell her the edited version," Blair replied. "Daddy offered to take mommy home when she was really upset and mommy realized there was more to daddy than purple and 'I'm Chuck Bass.'"

"Funny," Chuck replied. "But what else do we tell her? I don't want her to know about – everything." Blair locked eyes with Chuck. It had been a long time since either of them had brought up what had happened with Jack. She should have known the birth of his first child would stir things within Chuck.

"We tell her the truth," Blair told him. "Not all of it, obviously, but we'll tell her that we made mistakes and it took losing each other to find one another again. And most importantly, we'll teach her to love without abandon."

Chuck reached for the baby and rested her on his chest. It amazed him, how much he loved this little girl and how protective he felt over her.

"I just want her to know how much I love you both," he admitted. "And that you both are the most important things in my life."

"She already does," Blair said confidently. She slid over to Chuck and rested her head on his shoulder. He put an arm around her, happy to hold his two girls. "We both do." Chuck smiled and kissed the top of Blair's head while she rubbed the baby's back.

Once they had returned from Bora Bora, they had settled into a routine. When Blair had started Columbia, they had struggled at first to find a balance between her schoolwork, Chuck's business ambitions and their time together. It had taken them some time to work out how to spend time together while attending to their commitments, but they had worked it out, setting aside Friday afternoons through Sunday evenings to be with one another as well as at least one day during the week, more if they could work it out.

Chuck had asked Blair to marry him the night of her graduation. He had asked permission from both Harold and Roman and Eleanor and Cyrus and even Dorota. He had spent the day on pins and needles, something Blair had noticed. Her irritation had rose until she had finally snapped, causing a bit of a scene at her graduation party. In the heat of the moment, while Blair was accusing him of not being happy for her accomplishment, he had pulled the ring from his coat pocket and proclaimed "I was going to ask you to marry me, dammit."

Blair had stopped in her tracks at his declaration as the room had fallen silent, family and friends no longer trying to pretend they weren't listening in. Her eyes had grown wide and Chuck had found himself on one knee, presenting her with the ring and asking her to be his wife. It wasn't the proposal he had planned – he had procured the Empire State Building with plans of presenting her with macaroons from France and stockings from Germany and one very expensive Harry Winston – but she had said yes with tears in her eyes and a smile on her face and surprised everyone, himself included, when she had bypassed the ring to throw herself at Chuck. Nate had subtly coughed 'ring,' which had reminded the pair that there was, indeed, a very large diamond with Blair's name on it to slip onto her finger.

The wedding had, of course, been the event of the year. No expense had been spared in making Blair's dream wedding into reality. Both of them had cried during their personally written vows and kissed before the minister had told them to, but neither of them had ever been happier. Until, just over 9 months later, Charlotte Lillian Bass had been born.

It had been a surprise for Blair to discover she was pregnant and she had been terrified to tell Chuck for fear that it would be too much too soon with the marriage and all. Instead of fleeing to a far away land like Blair had envisioned in her worst case scenario, Chuck had broke into a big smile and pulled Blair into his arms, spinning her around and spending the rest of her pregnancy making sure she was waited on hand and foot, whether by him or someone he had hired – or whether or not she was insisting on doing something herself. He could admit now that he had been a bit overprotective, but Blair was his world and he would make sure it went smooth for her. He was also, admittedly, a little afraid as childbirth had been what deprived him of his own mother.

Life now was what they had both longed for – simple and routine. Chuck went to the office every day and was home in time for dinner nearly always. Sometimes there was a dinner meeting or a business trip, but Blair was always his date for dinner and he had talked her into accompanying him on his trips a number of times. When she didn't, he made them as quick as possible. Blair herself had earned a reputation as one of Manhattan's premiere event planners. It wasn't the career path she had set out on and her degree in psychology had more or less nothing to do with her career, but she loved what she did. It made sense, even, as she had always loved to plan a party.

She would return to planning parties in a few months, but she was determined to spend the first few months of her child's life as completely present. Dorota who now worked for them with Eleanor and Cyrus in Paris nearly year round, was always willing to help with the baby, but Blair refused a nanny and Chuck was all too happy with her decision. Dorota and and a string of nannies had raised Blair and Chuck and they were determined to do everything their parents hadn't for their child and the others they would inevitably have.

"Don't you have some work to do?" Blair asked.

"Yeah," Chuck said, his voice full of regret. "And it can't really wait another day. But I don't want to move." Blair sat up though and reached for the baby.

"Go work," she directed. "The sooner you get it done, the sooner you can lounge around with Charlee and me. We'll go watch a movie while you work and I'll see about something for dinner afterward. You'll be done by dinner?" Chuck nodded.

"If not before," he confirmed. "What movie? Maybe I'll work in the media room while you watch."

"Breakfast At Tiffany's," Blair replied with a smile.

"Exposing our girl to Audrey already," Chuck mumbled. "I think I'll be more productive in my office." Blair laughed as she stood and started towards the media room. Chuck stood as well and headed in the opposite direction to his office.

"Hey, Bass?" he called across the room. Blair turned.

"Yes, Bass?" Chuck grinned.

"I love you." His eyes fell on his daughter. "Both of you." Blair kissed the baby's head with a soft smile.

"We love you too, Bass."

* * *

**The end. :( **


End file.
